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1 906 

Copyright, 1906 
The Science Press 


THE New EDA Printing Company. 
Laicasted. Pa, 



JULY, 1906 





[7! MBR YOLOGY is the most complex subject in the domain of 
-*— * science. Living beings are the most complex objects which 
nature offers us for study, and of this great class the higher animals 
exceed all others in complexity. The anatomist who studies the struc- 
ture of the adult has a finished apparatus to investigate; a machine 
which has been perfected, in which, to be sure, nature may still make 
repairs, but in the pattern of which she makes no radical changes. 
The physiologist deals with this machine at work. The embryologist, 
on the contrary, has for his theme the history of this machine and of 
its gradual production from a single cell and the progeny thereof. 
During the period of development the machine at every stage is a 
different machine from that which it was in the stage before and 
which it will become in the stage after, and yet in every stage it is 
actively at work performing its proper physiological functions. We 
have to deal not with a condition, but with a series of conditions, 
each of which is at once the consequence of that which went before 
and the cause of that which is to follow. The final problem of 
embryology is to determine the origin and cause of the structure of 
the living body, and incidentally it has to deal with the associated 
problems of teratology, growth, heredity and sex. 

We acknowledge the immensity of the questions for which em- 
bryological science must seek answers, but it is far from my intention 

1 Oration delivered before the Maine State Medical Association, June 14, 
1906, at Portland, Maine. 


to imply that embryologists therefore are an order of scientists superior 
to all others. Embryology is so vast and varied that it offers prob- 
lems adapted, I might almost say, to every size of mind, and persons 
of moderate capacity, as well as those of the highest gifts of genius, 
can find adequate opportunity to gratify successfully in the field of 
embryology any demon of research which may possess them. 

Let us first consider some of the conditions upon which the progress 
of embryological science has depended. Of course the first and all- 
essential thing is the amount and quality of human ability which has 
gone into it. This is true of every science, as goes without saying. 
It may, however, be interesting to pause a moment, since contemporary 
events are directing so much of the interest of the world towards 
Russia, in order to point out that modern scientific embryology had 
its birth in that country, for the first step was the publication of 
the articles by C. F. Wolff on the ' Theory of Generation and the 
Development of the Intestine in the Chick ' ; and the second and 
more important step was the publication of the great work of Carl 
Ernst von Baer, which may be said without exaggeration to have 
created by itself a new science. Von Baer's treatise on the ' Entwicke- 
lungsgeschichte der Thiere ' is one of the greatest works in the whole 
history of biological science, and established the author's reputation 
as a genius of research. By the aid of improved methods a tyro in 
embryology may now verify von Baer's discoveries, but there has been 
no one since von Baer, who could have approached with his scientific 
resources the magnitude of his achievement. Let us then honor his 
memory. Although Wolff and von Baer, both, were Russian subjects, 
they were of German descent, and we find indeed that throughout the 
greater part of the last century the advance of embryology was due 
chiefly to German investigations. 

How recent this knowledge is we are apt to forget. From 1800 to 
1840 the seminal animalcules were universally regarded as parasites. 
The fact that they are normal products of the testis and the true 
male sexual elements was first discovered in 1841 by the Swiss anato- 
mist von Kolliker, who was a leader in microscopical research for 
sixty-five years, and whose death occurred last year. Of Kolliker it 
may be asserted safely that he knew more by direct personal observa- 
tion of the microscopical structure of animals than any one else who 
has ever lived. He was much honored in Europe. The last time I 
met him was at the International Zoological Congress at Berne, in 
1894. It was most impressive to see all the members of the congress 
spontaneously rise to their feet when the handsome old man unex- 
pectedly entered the meeting. The fact that the spermatozoon enters 
the ovum and produces the so-called male pronucleus, the union of 
which with the female pronucleus completes the act of fertilization, 
was finally demonstrated only in 1875 by Oscar Hertwig. These two 


additions to our knowledge are so fundamental that we have become 
rapidly familiar with them, and easily forget how recently they have 
been added to our science. Many other illustrations of the newness 
of embryological knowledge might be given. 

The methods used by von Baer and by all his successors in em- 
bryology down to 1860, or even later, were exceedingly simple. They 
worked almost entirely with fresh material, hand lenses, and some- 
times with acetic acid to render the objects a little more transparent. 
The embryologists of that period were few in number, but they made 
many fundamental discoveries. I fancy that if the researchlings of 
our present luxuriously installed laboratories were put back into that 
time of lean resources, their publications would cease. As you know, 
the fundamental procedures in modern microscopical technique are the 
making of sections and the staining of them. The introduction of 
section cutting came about so gradually that its history seems to be 
lost to us. Many persons in the middle of the last century appear 
to have made sections by hand of various tissues. This was especially 
a practise among botanists. At first only fresh material was used, 
but it was learned that preserved material, especially that which had 
been properly hardened in alcohol, could be cut to greater advantage, 
and gradually the process of ' hardening ' before cutting became more 
and more common. So long as the cutting was done only by hand 
with that favorite unsuitable instrument of old days, the razor, no 
very fine sections were possible, save occasionally by some person of 
exceptional dexterity. The first microtome, so far as known to me, 
was that devised by Professor His and employed by him, about 1866, 2 
for making serial sections of chicken embryos. Since then many in- 
ventors have contributed to the perfection of the instrument, and we 
now have the rather complex but very accurate and convenient auto- 
matic microtomes which are in such general use. 

With the aid of microtomes, we can make perfect series of sections, 
and by mounting the entire series from a given object, it becomes 
possible to examine every part of it under the microscope. In the 
case of embryos serial sections are invaluable. We have been form- 
ing in my laboratory at the Harvard Medical School a collection of 
sl^ch series of sections of vertebrate embryos. The total number of 
series at the present writing is 1,106, of which forty-nine are from 
human embryos. The total number of sections is probably over 100,- 
000. This collection has already served as the basis of forty-two 
embryological investigations and we trust that it will serve in the 
future for very many more. So far as I know the collection is unique 
in plan and extent. As soon as we are established in our superb new 
laboratory, into which we are about to move, we shall be glad to have 

2 Described in the Archiv fiir mikroskopische Anatomie, 1870. 


you inspect our embryological museum. We value especially a fine 
human embryo which is in the youngest stage yet recorded by actual 
observation in America. 

The history of staining is more definite. I have had the pleasure 
of hearing from Professor Leo Gerlach, Sr., himself the story of the 
introduction of coloring matters in microscopical technique. He was 
interested about 1857 in studying blood vessels, and wishing to trace 
them out by injection, applied to a local apothecary at Erlangen for 
a suggestion of some red coloring matter, and the apothecary proposed 
that he should use an ammoniacal solution of carmine, the pigment 
extracted from the cochineal insect. Professor Gerlach employed it, 
and in examining some of his preparations later found that the color 
had soaked through the blood vessels into the surrounding tissues, and 
had stained them so that they were much more distinct, and he also 
noticed that the stain had especially affected the nuclei. He at once 
recognized the importance of this coloration as a means of rendering 
more clear the character of cells and tissues, and to him we owe the 
introduction of carmine into histological technique, and it remains 
to-day the most important and valuable coloring agent for our pur- 
poses which we possess. The introduction of carmine marks an epoch 
in microscopical science. It was most fortunate that the accidental 
observation of the action of carmine was made by a man so thoroughly 
able to appreciate its great value. Since then many other staining 
reagents have been introduced by many different persons. I need 
not pause now to enumerate them, or hold up your attention in order 
to give a list of names and dates such as could be easily compiled. 
I will only recall to your minds that the introduction of chloride of 
gold, of osmic acid, of the aniline dyes, and of the Golgi method have 
each of them represented the beginning of a fresh advance, which 
without these added technical resources would undoubtedly have re- 
mained impossible for us. 

Another class of methods are those by which we reconstruct from 
serial sections- the anatomy of an embryo or an embryonic organ. To 
the late Professor His, of Leipzig, we owe practically the first recogni- 
tion of the value and possibility of such reconstruction. He employed 
chiefly the method of drawing, by which many figures have been made. 
The process is laborious, for each section must be drawn and then the 
position of the parts measured and plotted off — but the labor is worth 
while as it results in accurate representations of the anatomy of parts 
which can not be dissected. I am in hopes that in our new Harvard 
laboratories that this method of reconstruction from sections will be 
applied to the adult, for I am sure that we can obtain by it representa- 
tions of adult relations far superior to anything we now possess. 

Doubtless to many of you the method of reconstruction from sec- 
tions in wax models is also well known and its value appreciated as a 


means of giving us perfectly clear plastic conceptions of the arrange- 
ment of parts. The very ingenious wax-plate method was invented by 
the late Gustav Born, who conceived the happy idea of making wax 
models of single sections or parts of sections equally magnified in all 
three dimensions. It is only necessary to pile such wax plates in order, 
one on top of another, to get a correct model of the whole object. 
The method is very widely used and in my laboratory, for example, 
has been employed recently by Dr. John L. Bremer to model the 
anatomy of a human embryo and by Dr. John Warren to model the 
developing brain. Such models are truly revelations to one who has 
studied sections only. 

This is not a suitable occasion to review the history of the tech- 
nical progress of embryological science. I wish only to so far indicate 
it as may suffice to direct your attention to the dominant importance 
of method in scientific problems. It seems to me that the greater 
part of the advance which is made from time to time in modern 
science is the direct result of either an improvement of old methods 
or the invention of novel methods. I can see in my own science clearly 
that this has been the case, and from what I learn about other sciences, 
infer that it is equally true of them. Viewed from the psychological 
standpoint, the vast majority of methods have a common purpose, 
nameh', to present the results to the eye, so that we can see what the 
facts are with which we wish to become acquainted. When we make 
sections, it is in order to see the cells in their natural relative posi- 
tions, and with all their various characteristics. When we stain sec- 
tions, it is in order to make things visible which were before indis- 
tinct or perhaps invisible. When we make reconstruction or models 
it is to furnish again an image to the eye which we can not get from 
the actual object itself. The eye, indeed, is the chief agent in col- 
lecting information for us from the objects by which we are sur- 
rounded. It is because they help out the eye that the microscope and 
telescope have counted for so much. The eye is almost the monarch 
of research, and reigns even more supremely over our relations with 
our surroundings than does the ear over our intercourse with our 
fellow men. 

The results of embryology for a long time remained rather meager, 
and when as a young man I went to pursue some of my scientific 
studies in Germany, the principal text-book of the science was a 
modest octavo volume by Professor Kolliker. Since that time (1873) 
the activity in this domain has increased by leaps, and is now enormous, 
and the latest handbook of the science, that which is in course of 
publication at this time under the editorship of Professor Hertwig 
of Berlin, will comprise eight volumes, each of which promises to 
exceed a thousand pages when complete; yet the work is only a digest 
of the researches upon the development of vertebrates and does not 


deal with the invertebrates at all. This bald statement may give you 
some impression of the present vast extent of the science. 

What I wish to attempt on this occasion is to select out of this 
huge accumulation of discovery some illustrations of the way in which 
embryology has made contributions of practical value to medical science 
and medical practitioners. I have on another occasion spoken of the 
relations of science and the scientific spirit to medical education and 
practise, and on yet another occasion have discussed embryology as a 
basis of pathology, so that it seems unnecessary to deal again and 
before you with these more general aspects of the situation, but I shall 
ask your attention rather to certain more detailed and specific examples. 

Every science has its larger aims and purposes. Those of em- 
bryology may be classed not unnaturally under five heads. First, I 
shall group together those researches that refer to the general topic 
of generation, the production of the new being, the conditions under 
which it first develops, including, of course, for man especially, the 
relations of the fruit to the womb. Under this head are comprised 
phenomena of impregnation, problems of heredity, the origin of sex, 
the conditions of gestation and pregnancy, and the physiological causes 
of birth. 

Secondly, under the head of cytomorphosis we can put all the 
work which has been accomplished in tracing out the development of 
cells. The conception of cytomorphosis is one which has only recently 
become clear to us, but it is one of the most fundamental notions of 
biological science, and one which every student of morphology, pa- 
thology or physiology must clearly grasp and keep constantly in mind. 
Cytomorphosis has been defined as the comprehensive designation for 
all the structural modifications which cells or successive generations 
of cells may undergo from the earliest undifferentiated stage to their 
final destruction. It starts with the history of the undifferentiated 
cell, considers all phases of differentiation, and in those cases where 
the process goes to its end, it follows out the final steps of the degenera- 
tion and destruction of the cell. The law of cytomorphosis is indeed 
the chief foundation of all anatomical and pathological science. The 
possibilities of modification within a cell are determined by the stage 
of cytomorphosis which is reached, and as it goes forward from stage 
to stage the possibilities of further change become more and more 
limited in accordance with the recently established law of genetic 
restriction. I have expounded my views on the importance of the 
laws of cytomorphosis for pathology in the Middleton-Goldsmith lec- 
ture for 1901 and need not now dwell longer upon the subject. 

Third, I should class the studies which refer to the germ layers, 
those laminse of cells which, as it were, occupy an intermediate place 
between the single cell and the organ. They correspond to the first 
orderly arrangement of cells which we have in the organism, and from 


this tripartite arrangement the organs are fashioned. Of course, the 
fundamental morphological fact in regard even to the higher animals 
is the cell, but next to that we may place the existence of the germ 
layers, the complicated interrelations of which dominate the entire 
history of every individual alike in health and in disease. The com- 
prehension of the morphological importance of the germ layers and 
their relation to the production of tissues and organs and abnormal 
growths of all kinds is absolutely indispensable to every medical man 
who wishes to have an intelligent mastery of his subject. 

Fourth, we may place the strictly anatomical aspects of embryology, 
which give the morphological interpretations of organs and the ex- 
planation, as you know, of many anomalies of adult structure. The 
anatomy of the adult offers to us many riddles, for numerous are the 
arrangements and characteristics of the body which we can not under- 
stand or explain from the study of the adult alone. The language of 
adult structure we often can not read unless we have first studied the 
Eosetta Stone of embryology which affords us the key of translation. 
As a teacher in a medical school, I have again and again been pro- 
foundly impressed with the value of embryology to the student of 
anatomy. Things which are obscure are illuminated by a knowledge 
of the developmental changes. In an embryo we encounter simplified 
conditions; secondary modifications coming in later in the course of 
development not only add to the complication of parts, but often also 
produce so great changes as to mask the fundamental and original 
relations. What student of adult anatomy alone could possibly dis- 
cover that the thymus gland is a modification of the lining epithelium 
of a gill pouch which exists as a pouch in the embryo and is homol- 
ogous with the gill pouch of a fish? Or what pure anatomist could 
ever have discovered that the spermiduct is the modified duct of a 
kidney present in the embryo, but which in the adult has as such totally 
vanished? If we pass from mere human anatomy to the larger and 
more scientific subject of comparative anatomy, we feel again the value 
of embryology, which establishes the real homologies of structure, prov- 
ing exact homologies from the study of the early stages of parts, which 
in different types become so unlike that their fundamental identity of 
origin is completely hidden. For example, without embryology we 
never should have known that the little bone of the ear which we call 
the malleus is homologous with the upper part of the lower jaw of a 
cartilaginous fish. Indeed, the stories which embryology has to tell 
are the most romantic known to us, and the wildest imaginative crea- 
tions of Scott or Dumas are less startling than the innumerable and 
almost incredible shiftings of role and changes of character which 
embryology has to entertain us with in her histories. I have been 
tempted to exclaim sometimes while pursuing my science that in em- 
bryology only the unexpected happens. 


Fifth and last, I should like to gather under the head of morpho- 
physics a number of researches, nearly all of which are very recent, 
and which tackle the doctrine of the chemical and physical causes of 
development. These researches have been largely experimental in 
character, and though we are only at the beginning of this sort of 
work, vet the results already obtained are of the highest value and 
make us hope for far greater results to come. 

There should be added logically a sixth heading for the physiology 
of the embryo, but so little has been done and so little is doing in this 
part of biology that only in the future can this logically correct sixth 
division correspond to a field of active research. Here poverty of 
achievement makes further present consideration by us superfluous. 

It is unnecessary to argue in order to prove to you that the study 
of generation is of importance to the medical man. The results which 
embryologists have already offered in solving some of the problems of 
generation form part of the stock in trade of every practitioner, for 
every one must know something of the uterus and placenta, must 
know that there is no communication between the fcetal and maternal 
circulation — no passage of the blood from the mother to that of the 
child : that there is no machinery for the making of so-called maternal 
impressions; that conception depends primarily upon the fusion of 
two living elements, the ovum and spermatazoon, which arise as living 
and integral parts of the parental bodies, and must know thus that 
there is a continuity of life, an earthly immortality, and that from 
generation to generation life is uninterrupted. All these notions and 
many others derived from embryology are now-a-days part and parcel 
of every physician's information, and it is hard to realize that a short 
time ago many of these facts were unknown to us. I believe that 
in the course of the next few years many new discoveries concerning 
generation will be made which will in their turn become familiar to 
all. I expect especially in regard to the subject of heredity a great 
increase in our knowledge, because the subject has attracted many 
investigators and some notable results have already been achieved. I 
may instance the history of the germ cells in which I have been espe- 
cially interested. Professor Moritz Xussbaum on the basis of certain 
observations which he had made, put forward in 1880 the theory of 
germinal continuity. He pointed out that there is noteworthy evi- 
dence in the development of various animals tending to show that the 
germinal cells from which the sexual products arise are separated off 
very early from the other cells of the embryo and undergo very little 
alteration until the time comes for them to be transformed into sexual 
elements, male or female, as the case may be. Dr. F. A. Woods, work- 
ins in mv laboratorv upon the embrvos of dog-fish brought the first 
conclusive demonstration that Xussbaunvs theory is true for a verte- 
brate. He found that the germ cells are set apart, have a distinct 


history of their own throughout the embryonic period and do not 
contribute in any way to the formation of any of the organs of the 
body. Since then Mr. B. M. Allen has discovered that the history of 
the germ-cells in the turtle is strikingly similar, and Dr. Woods is 
now engaged in tracing out the history in birds. Every one present 
will, of course, immediately recognize the great importance of a dis- 
covery which tends to show that there is a permanent distinction be- 
tween the reproductive cells and the somatic cells which belong to the 
body and do not serve for reproduction. 

Concerning cytomorphosis I need not add anything to what has 
been said concerning its general value in pathological study, but I 
should like to refer briefly to the good results which we may anticipate 
from direct application of the notions supplied by embryologists to 
the investigations which are yet to be made upon what we may call the 
morphological diseases, in distinction to those which are of parasitic 
origin. Morphological diseases arise through intrinsic causes, ab- 
normal conditions due to the body itself and its reactions. Parasitic 
diseases have extrinsic causes. The dramatic — I misdit almost say 


melodramatic — growth of bacteriology and the kindred sciences has 
caused us to give most of our attention to diseases of the infectious 
type caused by some vegetable or animal parasite. This tendency is 
to be so far regretted that it has rendered investigation one-sided and 
lured it away from the class of diseases which may be attributed to 
pathological cytomorphosis. In regard to these the fundamental 
problem is identical for the pathologist and embryologist. It is the 
question of what and how the change in the structure of the single 
cell may be. Here is a central problem about which a vast number of 
lesser problems revolve like satellites. In the solution of this and of 
allied problems our greatest hopes for the future progress of medicine 
seem to lie. If we can find out what are the conditions which cause a 
cell to change its structure and advance in its cytomorphosis, we may 
hope that that discovery will include the explanation of why certain 
cells develop abnormally and become, as we commonly say, pathological, 
and we are to have precise knowledge of the cytomorphic causes we 
may dare, even now, to hope that we shall learn to regulate them, and 
that some, at least, of the diseases which are now beyond our reach 
will come under our control. It was not long ago that the idea of 
conquering diseases like malaria, yellow-fever, diphtheria and tuber- 
culosis seemed a mere dream, a beautiful dream, yet control of them 
is now a reality, and is becoming almost daily more assured, complete 
and beneficent. So too in regard to the strictly morphological dis- 
eases, knowledge may bring mastery; and even sclerosis, that disease 
from which we are all assumed to be suffering in varying degrees, may, 
ere long, find itself subject to man. 

Of the services which embryology has rendered to medical science 


within the last twenty-five years, the best known and probably the 
most important, certainly the most spectacular and unforeseen, is the 
revelation of the structure of the nervous system and of the relation 
of the nerve cells to one another. This wonderful achievement has 
been due chiefly to the introduction of a single new method, named 
after its inventor Golgi, one of those brilliant modern men who prove 
that genius is still the gift of the Italian race. He was born at Cor- 
teno on the ninth of July, 1843. The method was first described 
in 1875 in an article on the fine structure of the olfactory bulbs. The 
method was so radically different from anything known at that time 
that it was treated with scornful incredulity, and no attention was 
paid to the new invention which was destined to revolutionize our 
knowledge until it was introduced in Germany by Professor Kolliker 
in 1887. This marvelous method has been found to work best with 
embryos and has enabled us to trace out the form, including their 
ramifications, of the nerve cells and neuroglia cells of the brain and 
spinal cord throughout their whole period of development. As you 
know, all our contemporary teaching in regard to the structure and 
functions of the central nervous system, our conceptions of the nervous 
mechanism within the central nervous system and in the ganglia, are 
based upon the results obtained through the application of Golgi's 
method by embryologists. It is pleasant to note that in 1903 the 
completion of twenty-five years of teaching, and, by a happy coinci- 
dence, the anniversary of his silver wedding, were celebrated by Pro- 
fessor Golgi's pupils by the publication of his complete works, ' Opera 
Omnia,' in three magnificent quarto volumes. Copies of this pub- 
lication ought to be in every pathological and histological laboratory 
in the world. Indeed, every text-book of anatomy, embryology or 
pathology published now-a-days is a memorial of Professor Golgi, for 
they are all abundantly supplied with figures of Golgi preparations. 
We may see in this history an illustration both of the value of the 
embryological data and also of the almost" creative power of a new 

Degeneration has long been regarded as essentially a patho- 
logical process. This is the view which we have inherited. 
Nevertheless it is incorrect, as has been demonstrated by the more 
exact study of normal cytomorphosis during recent years. We now 
know that degeneration is to be looked upon as a normal end to a 
complete cytomorphic cycle. Instances of normal degeneration have 
long been familiar to us. Our mistake has been in overlooking their 
interpretation, their significance as part of the normal life. Thus 
the horny layer of the skin is made up of degenerated cells. Cartilage 
when it is replaced by bone undergoes a normal degeneration. In 
short, we must regard pathological degeneration very much as we re- 
gard those plants which we call weeds, things which are growing 


from our human point of view at the wrong time and in the wrong 
place, but which are not of themselves wrong or diseased, though they 
become so in man's nomenclature by their mode of occurrence. This 
broader conception of degeneration affords a new foundation for 
further investigation, and by the hearty cooperation of the embryologist 
and the pathologist we may expect new enlightenment. 

The fourth head under which we classed the work of embryologist 
corresponded to the field of anatomical research. We all know that 
the embryological explanation of the anatomical disposition in the 
adult is a real and clarifying explanation. Certainly no teacher of 
anatomy to-day, competent to his work, will undertake to teach the 
structure of the brain, of the urogenital system or of the heart, except 
on an embryological basis. But there are a great many other an- 
atomical conceptions which may best be made clear if we start with an 
examination of the conditions in the embryo. My experience as a 
teacher has afforded me many examples of this. Let me mention a 
few. The arrangement of the great cephalic nerves is a subject of 
peculiar difficulty to the student, but by the examination of a few 
properly chosen sections through the head of mammalian embryos all 
the essential topographical relations can be made easily understandable, 
and these essential relations are never obliterated by any further de- 
velopment. The disposition of the peritoneum is one of the greatest 
bugbears to the first-year medical student. But let him study the 
peritoneum in its relation to the viscera in the young embryo and he 
easily overcomes his difficulties and gets a clear and correct conception 
of the topographical relations of the peritoneal membrane and is able 
thereafter to comprehend the secondary modifications by which the 
adult topography is so much complicated. So too in regard to the 
thorax, a few sections from embryos give definite and exact conceptions 
of the fundamental relations of the heart and lungs, the mediastinum, 
and of the pleural and pericardial membranes. A good student may 
obtain from such a section a visual image which he will carry with him 
throughout life and which will always serve to make clear in his mind 
all these anatomical relations. One more similar instance may suf- 
fice. Students are always perplexed by the nature and mutual con- 
nections of the three membranes of the spinal cord and brain. Here 
also experience convinces us that sections of embryos reveal the facts 
so perfectly that they are readily comprehended and not easily for- 
gotten. But I think I need not argue further to convince you that 
embryology as an aid to anatomical study is of incalculable value, and 
ought, if we are to do our anatomical teaching conscientiously, to be 
included in every medical curriculum. 

Not infrequently the study of embryos establishes entirely new 
anatomical conceptions. An instance of this is offered by the study 
of blood vessels. We have learned in recent years that in addition to 


the long recognized arteries, veins and capillaries, there is another 
class of blood vessels of great importance. These vessels are called 
sinusoids and to a certain extent resemble capillaries, but their de- 
velopment and their relation to the parts of the organs in which they 
occur are entirely different from those of true capillaries. A sinusoid 
is developed by the subdivision of a single large vessel. It consists 
of endothelium, but that endothelium rests directly, or almost directly, 
upon the cells of the organ in which this type of vessel occurs. Capil- 
laries, on the other hand, are developed as small buds from preexisting 
vessels and are always found in connective tissue. The most important 
organ in which sinusoids occur is the liver, and the peculiar circulatory 
arrangements in that organ, which have so long seemed singular and 
puzzling, have become comprehensible, and have acquired greater 
significance since the conception ' sinusoid ' was established. This 
newly formed conception has unlocked the mystery of the portal cir- 
culation, and has explained the supply of venous blood to the liver. A 
morphological explanation of the portal vein had previously remained 

To the fact that embryology explains many anomalies of the adult 
structure, we have already referred. Let us leave out of consideration 
the true monstrosities and confine our attention for the present to the 
anomalies, which are due to arrest of development. These are com- 
paratively frequent, and many of them are so definite we may fairly 
call them typical. Such, for instance, is the preservation in the adult 
of the foramen ovale between the auricles of the heart, or of the open 
ductus arteriosus by which blood of the pulmonary and body circulation 
may mingle. In case of the veins also an arrangement of vessels is 
often found in the adult which is due to the persistence of a truly 
embryonic condition. The urogenital system seems to be peculiarly 
subject to arrests of development. When it starts the rudiments for 
both sexes are complete and the two sexes become differentiated largely 
by the obliteration in the individual of one sex of those structures 
which are characteristic of the other, but not infrequently it happens 
that this law of suppression is disturbed, and we then get very inter- 
esting and significant anomalies with which the physician often has 
practically to deal. Such cases do not produce a true hermaphroditism. ' 
That is a condition which apparently may occur in the human species, 
but is of the utmost rarity. Among other of the most frequent and 
familiar illustrations of arrested development I will mention cleft 
palate and hair lip. It is quite unnecessary to prolong this list, for 
it is evident that the anomalies we are considering are of a definite 
prescribed nature. They are all of practical importance to the physi- 
cian, and unless he knows something of embryology he can not know 
what these probable anomalies are. If he does know something of 


embryology he can understand much of what may be expected in this 
class of variations of structure. 

We will turn now to the fifth and last of our headings, that of 
morpho-physics. It is only of recent years that methods of experi- 
mentation, as distinguished from methods of observation only, have 
been applied to embryological problems. Naturally under the circum- 
stances many crude experiments have been undertaken, many of 
doubtful validity; but there have also been many others, soundly 
planned, rightly executed and fruitful in results. Already the new 
conclusions constitute an increment both large and precious to our 
stock of embryological knowledge. One important class of these ex- 
periments has been based upon the discovery of the possibility of 
grafting parts of amphibian embryos on to one another; or to get two 
large pieces of two distinct embryos, or even two halves of two embryos, 
to grow together. The grafting experiments which have already been 
made are very numerous. Let me present one or two examples of the 
sort of results that these experiments yield. If the halves of two 
species of frog in a very early stage are grafted together, they will 
unite perfectly, but it is found that the epidermis of the species which 
forms the anterior half of the graft will spread to a certain extent over 
the posterior half, thus showing that the skin can actually crawl over 
the underlying tissues. It is probable, indeed, that the migration of 
epithelial cells along the surfaces upon which they rest is a very general 
phenomenon, and plays a very important part in the animal economy. 
In another series of experiments the embryonic optic vesicle has been 
removed and grafted on to a new part of the larva. Where the optic 
vesicle comes in contact with the epidermis it causes the epidermis to 
form a typical lens for the eye. Thus it is proved that the formation 
of the lens is not a specific function of that part of the epidermis from 
which it is normally produced, but is a potential function of the entire 
embryonic epidermis which may be called forth into activity by con- 
tact with the growing optic vesicle. I believe that we have in this 
an illustration of one of the fundamental principles of the establish- 
ment of structure and that much depends upon the interaction and 
mutual stimulation of parts. 

Another class of experiments has been conducted by those who 
have been somewhat jocosely named the ' egg shakers.' An egg during 
an early stage of segmentation is divided artificially into its natural 
segments, or into groups of such segments, as the case may be. In 
many cases this division can be accomplished by shaking the eggs 
somewhat violently so as to break the segmentation spheres apart; 
hence the name above quoted. Xow it has been demonstrated that in 
-'•me cases fragments of a single egg will develop into an embryo per- 
fect apparently in structure, though only of say half the normal size, 

VOL. LXIX. — 2. 


whereas in other cases half an egg will develop only into half an 
embryo. Investigators are still busy studying out these results, the 
final interpretation of which has as yet by no means been reached. 
The experiments have opened to us a new realm of inquiry full of 
astonishing surprises. 

Experiments on artificial parthenogenesis have been much written 
about in the daily press, and many absurd things concerning this 
topic have been printed in the newspapers. Ordinarily the ovum re- 
quires to be fertilized in order to develop, but it has long been known 
that certain ova, of bees, of plant lice, of some Crustacea and of other 
animals will develop without being fertilized. To this process the 
term parthenogenesis has been applied. Artificial parthenogenesis 
designates the development of unfertilized ova which normally would 
not develop at all and which are stimulated to development by placing 
them under artificial chemical conditions. Doubtless many of you 
have seen in the newspapers these experiments referred to as if they 
gave the actual creation of life. Of course that is nonsense. The 
life is there in the ovum. What artificial parthenogenesis accomplishes 
is to supply a stimulus, chemical in nature and capable of replacing 
the fertilization by the spermatozoon, which would otherwise be neces- 
sary. The possibility of artificial parthenogenesis was first partially 
demonstrated by Richard Hertwig, but has been perhaps more studied 
by Professor Loeb, now at the University of California, than by any 
one else. Hertwig produced artificially only a development of very 
limited degree, but Loeb by treating the eggs of a sea-urchin for about 
two hours with a weak solution of magnesium chloride succeeded in 
1899 in producing larval sea-urchins (so-called plutei) from unfer- 
tilized ova. He concludes from this that fertilization is a chemical 
process, and that it is distinct and separate from hereditary trans- 
mission. No words of mine are needed to emphasize the importance of 
such investigations, for they are basic. 

A line of work combining experimental and observational methods 
in which I have been especially interested deals with the problem 
of growth. It can be shown statistically that the growth of the embryo 
in early stages goes on at an enormous rate, and also that during the 
]ieriod of foetal development that rate is constantly declining, so that 
something over 98 per cent, of the growth power is lost by the time 
of birth. After birth decline in the growth power continues, but 
gradually the decline becomes slower and slower, so that though growth 
is slight in rate, the growth power is long continued. A study of the 
condition of cells while this decline of the growth power is going on 
reveals to us that while the growth power is rapid the nucleus of the 
cell is active and well developed, and that the protoplasm of the cell 
is but slightly developed. As the proportion of protoplasm in the 
cells increases the power of growth diminishes, and as differentiation 


of protoplasm goes on the power of growth diminishes. I consider it 
probable that the growth and differentiation of protoplasm is the direct 
cause of the diminution of the growth power. The observations on 
growth bring out clearly to our minds the conception that the decline is 
by far the most rapid in the very early periods of embryonic develop- 
ment or, better expressed, that the rate of decline is at its maximum 
during the earliest periods. The older the individual becomes the less 
is the power of growth, but also the less rapid is the decline in that 
power. Thus we reach the paradoxical conception that the period of 
most rapid development is also the period of most rapid decline. This 
view, it seems to me, applies to all development, at least in the higher 
animals. As I have spoken on this subject more fully elsewhere, I 
will not pursue it longer now, but it seemed to me desirable to refer 
to it as an illustration of the far-reaching character and wide scope of 
embrvoloo'ical investigation, which inevitably allies itself with every 
other biological science. 

It would be no difficult task to extend my discourse by multiplying 
illustrations of the beneficial influence of embryology upon other de- 
partments of medical science. It is one of the institutes of medicine — 
a part of the foundation of knowledge upon which medical practise 
is erected. 

Embryology supplies facts which are directly valuable to the prac- 
titioner. It supplies explanations and interpretations of many ana- 
tomical structures and relations which would otherwise remain incom- 
prehensible. It supplies the clues to many common and rare anoma- 
lies, and it supplies to pathology a series of fundamental conceptions, 
without which our actual present pathological knowledge could not 
have been upbuilt. These claims of embryology to recognition are 
very great, but nevertheless they do not include her greatest claim to 
a preeminent place among the medical sciences. That greatest claim 
is established in my opinion by the contributions of embryology to the 
solution of the problem of organic structure. 

Structure is the only distinctive mark of living bodies, by which 
we know them to differ from inanimate objects. In the final dis- 
crimination between living and dead all other distinctions fail us or 
at best are utterly uncertain. In the higher forms we see differences 
of function always correlated with visible differences of structure. 
From such evidence, together with much other, we have established 
the hypothesis or theory — for at best it is only a theory — that all living 
functions are dependent upon organic structure. It is quaint, we may 
remark in passing, to read in recent essays by a learned German 
botanist the announcement of this theory, which the vast majority of 
biologists have long adopted, as a new foundation for biological phi- 
losophy, because he terms the ultimate unknown facts of structure 
' Determinanten.' How often has science been impeded by the intru- 


sion of a pedantry which mistakes the invention of a new term for 
the introduction of a new idea ! 

To find out what structure really is is the goal of all biological 
science. When we discover this secret, we may hope to discover also 
how structure functions and why it exists. The problem of structure — 
of organization — is double; there is first the question, what are the 
essential qualities of the structure of living matter as such, and there 
is, second, the question of the variations and specializations, which 
structure may undergo. With both of these questions embryology is 
confronted and both of them it is seeking to answer. The first is 
the riddle of life. Embryologists are bravely attacking it and have, I 
believe, already made a little real progress towards its solution. To 
them it presents itself as a series of queries concerning the germ-cells 
and the fertilized ovum. Searching analyses of the details with the 
highest powers of the microscope and the most refined technique 
coupled with experiments have indeed increased our knowledge of the 
organization of the germ cells. America, thanks to the brilliant work 
of E. B. Wilson and E. G. Conklin, and of their associates and fol- 
lowers, occupies a leading position in this difficult exploration. The 
importance of knowledge of the fundament of organic structure can 
hardly be exaggerated, and when it is obtained it will, I may prophecy, 
have profound far-reaching and enduring effects upon all medical 

Even more intimately is embryology occupied with the second part 
of the problem of structure, namely, the question of differentiation, 
i. e., of the gradual production of the varied organization of the adult 
with almost innumerable unlike parts. To-day the central problem of 
biology is that of differentiation, and the main purpose of cotemporary 
embryological research is to attack that problem. The problem is 
three-fold, for we must learn what differentiation is, how it is pro- 
duced, and why it is produced. Embryology might almost be termed 
the science of organic differentiation. Xow all that you do, as prac- 
tising physicians, is to deal with differentiated organs and tissues. You 
deal with a function, normal or diseased, which is rendered possible by 
the differentiation of cells. You deal with pathological states, every 
one of which has its special differentiation. Every phenomenon which 
you encounter in your professional work is conditioned by the differ- 
entiation of the organic living substance. To regulate that differ- 
entiation, to set it right when it has gone wrong, is the brightest 
vision of future human power which I can conceive, and I can not but 
think of embryology, which strives unceasingly to discover the laws of 
differentiation, as that Institute of Medicine which is to be the founda- 
tion of a greater practical medical progress than any yet achieved. 
The physician's knowledge is the mother of mercy. 



By L. p. gratacap, a.m., 


|~T requires very little imagination to picture to our eyes the aston- 
-*- ishment of the inhabitants of the older portions of the earth at 
the fall of meteorites in days before scientific knowledge had reduced 
them to ordinary phenomena. What could be better calculated to 
excite admiration and reverence than a luminous missile suddenly 
passing athwart the sky, accompanied by detonations, and almost simul- 
taneously reaching the ground ? Was it remarkable that superstition 
quickly enclosed them in its mesh of fable and fancy? Believing that 
the gods were accustomed to descend upon the earth, these visible appa- 
ritions of flame might not unnaturally seem to them the vehicles, or at 
least the portents, of their descent. 

In fact, a series of interesting medals or coins struck off to com- 
memorate these unusual visitations has been found amongst Roman 
and Grecian antiquities, which have been styled 'Betyl Medals,' from a 
supposed reference to the Hebrew ' El Bethel,' the house of God, thus 
implying that the meteorite was indeed, by contemporaries, regarded 
as a supernatural object. 

Science and observation have long ago determined their cosmic 
nature, and while opinions may still vary as to their exact origin, their 
actual constitution is well understood, and their source, in extra- 
terrestrial streams of moving matter, recognized. 

These strange objects have not diminished in interest because their 
miraculous origin has become a myth. On the contrary, science, by its 
exhaustive research, has placed them in the very front rank of objects 
that excite most vividly the imagination of the investigator. When 
science, in a perfectly rational way, speculates upon the possibility of 
one of these celestial visitors having passed through stellar space at 
measureless distances from our planet, exposed to inconceivable degrees 
of cold, and again at another time and place in its long transit to have 
encountered the most intense heat in the neighborhood of the sun, it 
requires little more suggestion to make it clear why they are to-day 
placed amongst the most prized specimens in mineralogical collections. 
The little further suggestion required to awaken the lay mind to a 
vivid realization of their interest is contained in the modern conception 
of their origin in dismembered comets, or even disrupted worlds. 

Museums and individual collectors have vied with each other in 



Cuernavaca, Mexico, Section of Ikon showing Figures. 

securing meteorites, and the details of falls, their date and locality, the 
comparison of types of meteorites, their mineralogical components arid 
their many physical peculiarities have been so carefully recorded and 
studied that a special science has resulted, and a special group of 
students, whose rivalry is more animated than that generally discovered 
elsewhere amongst collectors of one kind of natural object. 

The collection and the collector of meteorites have, with few excep- 
tions, been features of the nineteenth century only. Previous to that 
these wonderful objects elicited surprise, and perhaps superstitious 
regard. Only within the nineteenth century did their careful com- 
parison and study begin. All such collections as the great cabinets of 
Vienna, London, Paris, Berlin and the many smaller ones distributed 
through Europe have been slowly formed, the actual supply of material 
being dependent on meteorological incident and the results of travel 
and observation. In America, the larger collections at Yale, Harvard, 

Bacurbito, Side View. 


Amherst and Washing-ton were very gradually brought together. There 
was no concentrated effort made to extend them ; the scientific thought 
of the last century, except towards its close, had not keenly awakened 
to a realization of the almost marvelous connotations implied in these 
strange aerial vagrants, and the opportunities for their discovery had 
not been actually availed of. 

Xo one in the United States has exhibited greater perseverance and 
a more boundless, almost reckless, enthusiasm in this work of col- 
lecting meteorites than Professor Henry A. Ward. His audacity and 
zeal have gone hand in hand with a very keen scientific sense of the 
meaning of meteorites, and an admirable acquaintance with the liter- 
ature and the results that have developed in their study. 

He has himself been an explorer in this field, and it would be safe 
to predict his first arrival* at the scene of any new meteorite's fall 
to-day. His correspondence is extensive, and the merest mention of 
a meteorite occurrence flies to his desk, and is very quickly subjected to 
his pertinacious system of verification or exposure. 

The Ward-Coonley collection of meteorites now exhibited at the 
American Museum of Natural History represents his tireless work 
through many years, and stands to-day first amongst the collections of 
meteorites in this country. In the possession of large, unique masses, 
other collections may at points excel it, but in its representative charac- 
ter and in the actual number of ' falls,' it surpasses all others. The 
reader unacquainted with the peculiar pride of meteorite collectors 
may, perchance, welcome a little elucidation. 

Meteorites are named from the locality in which they fall, or are 
found. But few meteorites have ever been seen to fall, and hence the 
meteorite mass, when discovered, is given a name (by which it is ever 
afterwards distinguished) that is derived from its exact locality or 
neighborhood. Thus Canon Diablo, Arizona, Mincy Taney Co., Mo., 
Brenham, Kansas, Mocs, Transylvania, Estherville, Emmet Co., Iowa, 
are familiar labels in these collections. These designations sometimes 
of necessity assume a curious character, as the Vaca Muerta meteorite, 
or ' dead cow,' so named in the desert of Atacama, Chili, from its 
proximity to the corpse of that quadruped, the only, or at least a stri- 
king, physical feature in an otherwise featureless waste. Such a name 
remains after its origin has disappeared. 

A certain number of localities, however, have frequently proved to be 
but representative of a prolonged fall. A meteorite mass, meeting the 
atmosphere of our earth, becomes, through friction, enormously heated, 
disruption takes place, and the separated parts, instead of falling at 
one spot, are dropped in succession at widely removed points, and thus 
a series of names becomes synonymous. Long examination and careful 
comparison, such, for instance, as Fletcher, of the British Museum, has 

2 4 


devoted to the Mexican falls, or Dr. Brezina, of Vienna, to those of 
Europe, only can correct erroneous nomenclature of this kind. 

Again it is entailed, in the trials of a collector's work, to find some 
of his ' falls ' spurious, that the specimens are illegitimate or are ter- 
restrial; an accident which may awaken irreverence in the lay mind, 
but which has sent a shock — often salutary — throughout the commu- 
nity of ' star-gatherers.' 

All falls or finds are recorded — generally in a description author- 
itatively made by the finder or a scientific acquaintance — and the ob- 
jective goal to be reached by collectors is to have a representation of all 
such occurrences. Obviously size or weight is significant, and it is not 


unnatural for a layman to insist upon the superiority of a smaller col- 
lection with handsome examples over a larger collection where the spec- 
imens are diminutive or insignificant. The masses of various localities 
differ also greatly in size, the amount of material falling varying enor- 
mously in different falls, and so the value of a particular kind of 
meteorite is conditioned upon its initial size. It is quite evident that a 
mass of one thousand grams will not admit of such attractive subdi- 
vision as one of five thousand, and, in the case of the Angra-dos-Reis 
aerolite, one of the rarest of meteorites, there is not enough to ' go 
round.' The Angra-dos-Eeis unit also possesses peculiar lithological 
features, which naturally enhance the value given to it by its physical 



Colossal intruders from space, such as the Anighito, brought by 
Peary from Greenland and weighing (calculated) over forty tons, the 
Mexican Bacubirito of similar weight, and the large Chupaderos mon- 
ster, weighing over fifteen tons, while easily distributed to collectors, 
will eventually weigh more significantly as unique features in their 
entireness in the museums destined to receive and install them. 

It is desirable to call close attention to the admirable results of 
Professor Ward's labors, and to emphasize the preeminence the Ward- 
Coonley collection now takes in American cabinets. 

Professor Ward has taken every possible pains to perfect and 
enlarge his collection. He has purchased and exchanged, and has 
traveled the world seeking almost inaccessible masses to obtain new 
examples. An instance of the latter was his exploit in reaching and 

Willamette, Lower Surfaces showing Cavities due to Decomposition. 

unearthing the Bacubirito iron in Mexico, and a more recent venture 
in studying the anomalous features of the Willamette iron in Oregon 
under severe meteorological drawbacks. 

This collection has been signalized by the most striking compli- 
ments from original workers and directors of museums in Europe. 
Professor Carl Klein, the state counselor and director of the Royal 
Mineral Collection at Berlin, has referred to it as ' one of the finest 
and richest meteorite collections in the entire world'; and Dr. Brezina, 
the most famous student of these objects, writes: "Professor Ward 
has succeeded in reaching the highest number of localities now united 
in any collection. I count up to this day 689 localities described or 



mentioned, twelve of which are dubious for want of precise dates. 
From the remaining 677, I find 603 represented in his list, while the 
great Vienna collection gives but 557, counted in the same manner. 
The average weights are likewise highly satisfying, the total average, 
viz: the whole weight of the collection divided by the number of local- 
ities is over four kilograms (now 4,138 grams) for the locality." 
This is the analysis of a technical expert, and might perhaps but 
poorly reflect the impressions of one less solicitous about percentages 
and exhaustiveness. The ocular view must be considered, the sensible 
visual effect of interest and wonder. In this respect the Ward-Coonley 
collection is eminently adequate to extort praise. It is now arranged 
in seven beautiful cases at the north end of the Hall of Geology at the 
American Museum of Natural History, and the specimens classified in 
their three groups of iron (Siderite), iron and stone (Siderolite), and 
stone (Aerolite), present their extended, yet thick and close ranges, 
most effectively to the spectator. Superb polished slabs, etched and 
developed, follow one another in the stepped series ; and the bewildering 
number of aerolites, many large, and showing that invaluable and (to 
the eye of the collector) most exquisite test of certainty, the dark glis- 
tening crust of fusion, succeed, installed upon attractive mahogany 
standards; while a supplemental section of casts, reveals the original 
form and appearance of many celebrated or singular meteorites. 

One of the Seven Cases containing the Ward-Coonley Meteorite Collection, 
American Museum of Natural History. 



The assemblage is a striking and forcible tribute to Professor 
Ward's enthusiasm and persistency. A moment's reflection upon the 
order of events in the history of this great American collection of 
meteorites is not without interest. Professor Ward had been known 
as the indefatigable explorer of the continents and seas of the earth 
for all kinds of natural objects 
by which our American museums 
have so largely profited, but it was 
not until he had disposed of the 
great collection of natural history 
specimens which he exhibited at 
the International Exposition at 
Chicago in 1893 that he felt free 
to seize an individual field of 
study and enterprise. His mind 
had been deeply moved by the ap- 
peal made to it by these mute 
messengers from space, and a cer- 
tain challenge offered by them to 
his ingenuity and skill to find and 
possess them. He gave himself 
over literally to this pursuit with 
a single-minded persistence that 
only success could reward. Pro- 
fessor Ward has played the part 
of exchanger to its fullest limits. 
In this he has acted upon a very 
acute design. In all large mu- 
seums and with most active collectors, there are specimens that, as Pro- 
fessor Ward puts it, ' money could not dislodge.' Only the actual offer 
of pieces as rare, or more rare, and to which all approach was abso- 
lutely closed, except by the avenue of exchange, could displace them. 
Under such pressure Professor Ward has happily gathered into his 
possession many a piece of celestial iron or stone, which otherwise 
would have remained as immovable as Fitz-James before his less 
capable assailants. 

But practical and effective as has been exchange, as a means to an 
end, the infallible efficacy of money has been no less powerful. The 
actual expenditure has been very great, and in this pursuit, as in war, 
the cost for a successful issue must not be counted. Professor Ward 
enjoyed two unusual opportunities for suddenly increasing the size of 
his collection. The Gregory collection in England and the Siemaschko 
collection in Eussia, vying with each other as the largest private col- 
lections in Europe, fell into his hands at the death of their owners, and 

N'Govkema Meteorite, Soudan, Central 
Africa. Fell June 15, 1900. 


from these treasuries he filled the gaps, and enriched the precious con- 
tents of his own. His collection is one of increasingly rapid growth, 
and illustrates the quantitative results of single-minded effort, pre- 
cision of attack at vulnerable points and prodigality of purchasing 
power in a scientific warfare where the victor only receives the congrat- 
ulations of his generous competitors. 

Looking over Professor Ward's recently published catalogue, some 
concluding facts in this summary are interesting and convincing. In 
an introductory paragraph of his catalogue (1904) the author sa}'s: 
" The geographic sources of the collection are world-wide. Australasia 
and Asia, Africa and South America, are represented each by 95 per 
cent, of all their known meteorites, while North America and Europe 
bring up the train with 99 per cent, of the former and 97 per cent, 
of the latter. No collection in the world can say of itself more than 
this. Attention is particularly drawn to the series from Japan, Aus- 
tralia, Russia and Mexico. It is only within the last decade that the 
rare and interesting meteorites from these countries have been largely 
distributed. To-day it is true that in no collection in any one of these 
four countries are there so many kinds from that country as are repre- 
sented in this collection." The catalogue further notices that in this 
remarkable collection thirty falls, irons and stones, represent the largest 
single piece of that fall to-day known. 

The final impression left from an inspection of the Ward-Coonley 
collection is one of admiration and of natural astonishment that so 
complete an assemblage of these valuable and coveted wanderers from 
space could have been gathered together by the activity and industry 
of one individual. Their acquisition places the institution that receives 
them among the four most important meteorite depositories in the 

Summary of the Collection. 

Total number of falls and finds 603 

(Siderites 241; Siderolites 28; Aerolites 334. 

From North America 229 

From South America 31 

From Europe 231 

From Asia 77 

From Africa 27 

From Australasia, Sandwich Islands 26 

Total weight of entire collection 2.495.429 grams (=5.509 pounds). 

Average weight of each kind 4.138 grams (=9 1/9 pounds). 

Average weight, counting nothing over 50 kilograms to a kind, 1.746 

grams (= 3 4/5 pounds ) . 
Total number of specimens, about 1,600. 



(Being Further Extracts fko^i the Records of the Astral 
Camera Club of Alcalde) 



A T the December meeting of the Astral Camera Club, through the 
•*-- *- courtesy of Madame Yda Hhatch, of San Diego, vice-president of 
the American Chirological Society, the club received a rare treat, direct 
from the fountains of the Orient. 

Madame Hhatch is an adept in the science of palmistry and therefore 
a person of wealth and culture. She is pleased to exercise her gracious 
prerogative of patronage to scholars of all lands and of all beliefs. 
By her kindly interest the club was favored with an address by the 
Swami Earn Telang, of Bombay, from the Congress of Religions in 
Chicago, the substance of which, omitting the Hindu words I can not 
understand, I shall try to transfer to these records. 

The Swami Ram Telang is a slender, dark-skinned Brahmin, with 
a delicate moustache and a complexion of varnished leather. His 
finely cut mouth bears an impress of sweet patience, while his dark 
soulful eyes have a deep inward expression, as though earthly matters 
were but a veil, half hiding the light of the inner vision. He wore a 
white turban after the manner of his class, and his white and purple 
robes were very becoming to his gentle but manly figure. Madame 
Hhatch impressed upon us the importance of refraining from all con- 
tact with these robes, for a profane touch would soil his aura, besides 
impressing the severest pain upon his sensitive Xirvanic nature. For 
like reason he must be sheltered from the odor of cooked meat, while 
even the slightest approach to a butcher's shop on the street caused him 
the nausea and shudders. As he himself confessed, the perfection of 
being which he had attained was not an unmixed blessing, for the' 
proofs of sorrow and suffering were ever in his sight. " Why hast thou 
cast Ram," he said sometimes to his Lords of Karma, " into the time of 
the ever-blind to proclaim thine oracles with the opened sense?" But 
he was very kind withal and very patient and accepted with kindness 
our offerings of adulation. 

In this, my report, I can do but scant justice to his spoken words, 
for though I am not without literary taste and facility (though I say 
this, who should not) there was something in the lofty ideas and perfect 


expression in the measured words of this gifted young Brahmin which 
is beyond any effort of mine. 

He began by an account of the five usually accepted planes of 
existence, the physical, the astral, the devachanic, the shushuptic and 
the nirvanic. But to limit these planes to five was, he said, ' a great 
error,' introduced into our philosophy by the too practical British mind 
which even in esoteric matters is crowding to the wall the finer under- 
standing of the Hindu. The sole perfect number is seven and there 
must be seven planes and in his own experience as a wayfarer to 
Devachan and Shushup, he had always and ever found it so. Above 
the astral plane, already familiar to us at Alcalde lay the etheric plane, 
as the ether lies beyond the stars, while still beyond is the omnic plane, 
the Loka of the Perfect Silence. 

Of the etheric plane, he chose to speak to us. He first emphasized 
the fact that all these planes and the things they contained are real, 
4 as real,' he said, ' as the American Hotel on the main street of Alcalde.' 
As all dreams came from emanations or excursions into these higher 
planes, all dreams and their contents are real also. In fact, there is 
no apparition which is false or illusory. The only illusion is the 
denial, and denial is the essential characteristic of that western phi- 
losophy, which is blighting the earth and changing it from a sphere of 
dreams and happiness to a world of war and commerce washed by a sea 
of aimless discontent. This is the natural effect of life on a physical 
plane. It leads to idle strife and constant struggle, as its greatest 
exponents have freely admitted, and its only hope of progress is in the 
killing off of all those who are useless in war and unskillful in making 

The scenery, inhabitants and actions in each of these seven planes are 
in part peculiar, each to its plane. In part they are the doubles or 
phantoms of the objects found in the plane next lower. For the finer 
matter of the higher planes permeates and penetrates the coarser ob- 
jects of the planes below. Hence it transpires that to one in the plane 
below, the higher object, if he is aware of it, seems like a shadow or a 
phantom. Because he can pass through it is his argument for its un- 
reality. But in like measure, to the astral or ethereal being the 
physical man seems quite as unreal, for with equal ease the being can 
walk through and through him, injuring him or helping him, just as he 
may elect to choose. By such means an evil-minded shadow may work 
dire revenge for injury done in another plane. 

The higher the plane the more illusory the impressions we derive 
from it, not because of their unreality, but because of our own lack 
of training. For on the higher planes, objects change their forms with 
protean swiftness, casting a dazzling glamour from their aura as they 
change ; again, sight on the higher plane is very unlike physical vision. 
Even so low as the astral plane the inside of any solid object is as 


plainly open to the eye from the outside, and all objects near or far 
are seen alike without perspective. The fourth dimension, the dream 
of geometry, is plainly visible and in the omnic plane is clearly seen a 
fifth or sixth dimension. With these chances for error, it is not strange 
that the Feringhi, or English writers, on the higher planes have made 
frequent errors, while even the Hindu adept is never quite infallible. 
As a preparation for such investigation crystal-gazing has been found 
desirable. Still better is the formation of circles of silence when men 
and women gather around a white lily or other creation of purity and 
beauty and, clasping one another by the hand, endeavor to think Ether 
and Om. After many years of these exercises, gathering around perfect 
objects under his direction, the Swami said, a few devoted women had 
even risen to think Devachan and Shushup. No Englishman had, 
however, come to this and in our Caucasian race not even a woman of 
English birth had ever been able to think Nirvana. For in Shushup 
all desire to act is lost, as in Om is all desire of speech. In Nirvana 
alone is the absolute extinction of all desire — a thing impossible to 
you Americans. 

The scenery of the etheric plane is much as in the physical exist- 
ence, only more wavering, more delicate, more enchanting. Its objects 
of fine matter, finer than anything in the atomic or molecular way, 
freely interpenetrate all merely physical matters. It is therefore not 
necessary to seek it far from home. In India and Thibet, this scenery 
is peopled with its multitudes of beings, for these are the oldest lands of 
man, peopled for ages with him and his creations. California, on the 
other hand, with the exception of a few areas, as Point Loma and 
Chinatown, is virgin soil in its astral and ethereal aspects, its sole 
abundant life being the nature emanations and the essential spirits of 
animals. One may wander in its verdant etheric shades for weeks and 
never encounter a human creature. When one meets such a being there 
on the etheric plane, she is most gracious and friendly, her company a 
welcome recompense for months of loneliness. The appearance of a 
friend in these wastes is signalized by the glimmer of his aura which, 
as a most learned occidental adept has pointed out, appears " as an oval 
mass of luminous mist of highly complex structure, from its shape 
sometimes called the Auric Egg." This writer maintains with apparent 
truth that these auras are not mere emanations but the actual mani- 
festation of the ego on their respective planes. " It is," he says, " the 
auric egg which is the real man, not the physical body which on this 
plane crystallizes in the middle of it." This is certainly clear if we 
keep in mind the difference between this ego-aura and the physical 
health-aura which is the first purely astral object seen by the un- 
trained and seldom enters the etheric plane. For the sake of clear- 
ness we should call the contents of the auric egg the ' etheric double,' 
which is merely a new name for a very old idea, for it has long been 


known that the mold on which the physical body is made up is held in 
perpetuity by the agents of the Lords of Karma. Thus, however com- 
plicated and unusual a man's Karma may be, these agents, or Lipika, 
are able to give a mold in accordance with which a body exactly suiting 
it can be formed. 

The inhabitants of the etheric plane are as varied as those of the 
astral and physical planes, with this distinction, that certain types and 
races of men never rise above the last-mentioned level. For example, 
English is scarcely spoken on the astral plane and never on the etheric, 
where for most part is heard only some form or derivation of the 
Sanscrit. Those who aim to make of the bluntly practical English a 
universal tongue must soon see the futility of such efforts. For a 
language which barely reaches the astral plane can never be universal, 
while at the upper limit of Devachan, as is well known, all language 
disappears. Only the Voice of the Silences, the vibrations of the per- 
fect Om, the one word which closes the lips whenever it is spoken, is 
heard in the Crystal Vaults Superior. 

The learned Swami proceeded to divide the inhabitants of the etherie 
plane into seven great classes, for the sacred number seven is involved in 
all these investigations. These are (using our inadequate English 
words) : (1) The embodied, (2) the bodiless, (3) the shells, (4) the 
incubi, (5) the extra-planetary visitors, (6) the essences, (7) the 

Those of the first class, or embodied entities, have bodies on earth, 
still engaged in operations on the physical plane. These may be 
adepts or Chilas, or they may be canny yogis, or Initiates, possessed 
of second sight, or again ordinary men fast asleep at home, whose etheric 
doubles are drifting about involuntarily, swayed through esoteric cur- 
rents, or the so-called ' winds of dreamland ' of your western mythology, 
or finally they may be magicians, white or black, seeking their own 
ends, some of them unfortunately evil. The investigator may meet 
also on this plane students of the invisible, quite unconnected with 
the great master and knowing nothing of the mahatmas. These men, 
Slavs, Lapps or Malays, are often most earnest and self-renouncing 
seekers after truth, and the wise wanderer on the etheric plane will 
greet them with the omnic kiss of esoteric brotherhood. 

Of the bodiless class are likewise man} r , some of whom have wan- 
dered from afar. Even from Nirvana, perfect souls have descended, 
creating for themselves a perfect ethereal body for the purpose, since the 
more refined vesture of Nirvana would be invisible to ethereal sight. 
These souls never attempt anything in these lower planes, for in Nirvana 
is the final quenching of desire. Here too, the ego of adepts may await 
reincarnation, an unusual mode of procedure, it is true, but some- 
times to the self-renounced such favor is granted by the great master of 
reincarnation, Gautama-Buddha himself. But here the greatest care is 


necessary while the matter is arranged, lest by a touch of the Devachanic 
plane the waiting ego be swept by irresistible current into the line of 
normal evolution. In some cases, to avoid this strange accident, in- 
comprehensible to you who have never left the limits of Alcalde, and to 
escape the trouble of a new birth, with the pains of teething and the 
other woes of childhood, the adept will enter some adult body, aban- 
doned temporarily or permanently by its former tenant. The ad- 
vantages of remaining bodiless are, however, considerable, as this avoids 
the hampering possibility of fatigue while retaining perfect conscious- 
ness. The disadvantage is that as nothing can touch the being in ques- 
tion, it can touch nothing for itself. Here, too, gather many of those 
who have abandoned the physical life, to be returned to it, in reincarna- 
tion, not having perfectly achieved higher possibilities. Most of these 
remain, however, on the astral plane, never falling below the density of 

The third class, known as ' shells,' are soulless bundles of qualities 
fastened together by will or thought and so retaining a human re- 
semblance though all vestige of humanity has departed. Such, when 
seen by the canny, are recognized as ghosts. In writings of adepts you 
will find accounts of psychically developed persons, that is, persons 
possessed of second sight, who have seen about cemeteries ' hundreds of 
these bluish-white misty forms, hovering over the graves where are laid 
the physical vestures which they have recently left,' These shells may 
be galvanized into a very horrible form of temporary life, but this is 
only done by the loathsome rites of one of the worst forms of the black 
magic, which you of Alcalde, most of you not even initiates, much less 
adepts, could never be made to understand. 

Still more unpleasant are the incubi, or clusters of wicked qualities, 
wrenched by violence from their possessors as a stone is torn from an 
unripe fruit. These take a fiendish delight in exercising the arts of 
delusion which the higher plane puts in their power to lead others to 
the excesses which proved fatal to themselves. For such a one to meet a 
medium with whom it is in affinity is indeed terrible, for by such means 
its existence may be indefinitely prolonged. Still worse are the vampire 
and the were-wolf, which we of the Fifth Eoot Race now seldom en- 
counter, but which, to Slavic and Germanic adepts of the earlier cen- 
turies were objects of fear and danger in the astral regions and even as 
high upward as Devachan. All these are human in their origin. Not 
so the fifth class, the occasional visitors from other planets. Of these- 
wonderful creatures we know nothing, for only the highest of high 
adepts have the power of moving from planet to planet, and even I do 
not understand how it is performed. When these visitors appear, they 
choose a body temporarily created out of unused ethereal matter be- 
longing to the earth. Over this they wear a distinctive badge, a ring 
indicating Saturn, a series of belts indicating Jupiter or a tiny flaming 

VOL. LXIX. — 3. 


spear and shield for Mars and a silver mirror in a golden necklace for 
Venus. In Shushup, it is said, guests for all the signs of the zodiac are 
received — but of these I have seen but two, a charming young lady from 
Virgo and a mahatma from Sirius who bore the badge of a great dog or 

The sixth class are elemental essences. These may be either mineral 
or monadic in their nature, this depending on their origin. Usually 
they begin as a thought, aspiration or association of ideas, permeated by 
its appropriate variety of the deva or life principle, hence capable of 
floating or drifting about through etheric or astral space, until at last 
crystallized as an ego and embodied as a man. The history of these 
monadic essences is still obscurely known, as few adepts have the 
patience to watch them continuously through their centuries of develop- 
ment and incarnation. These often pass through the stage of animal 
essentials, some of whom are at last incarnated as animals, and the 
learned author of the ' Secret Doctrine ' describes his encounter with a 
number of these essences ' embodied in anthropoid apes, already in- 
dividualized and ready to take human incarnation at the next round or 
even sooner.' 

Then in the etheric plane are swarms of nature spirits, the tiny 
emanations of the sunny banks of moss, the foamy waterfall or the 
fragrance of the roses. Some of these are dim and gigantic, the 
products of the mighty canon, the roar of the sea, or the awesomeness 
of the forest. These may assume all forms at will, but when at rest 
they take the shape that is most befitting their natures. Ordinarily 
they are out of human sight, but they have the power of self-material- 
ization, or they can be formed into visual clearness by the effort of a 
powerful will. Such essentials are known to us of the east as djinns 
and sprites and peris, but in the west they have many names, fairies, 
gnomes, elves and imps, and the Greeks called them fauns and satyrs. 
Those which live in water are called undines, those which live in air are 
sylphs and those in fire are salamanders. The wild essential spirits 
do not like, the presence of man, though they often try to help him or 
sometimes to play little tricks on him for their own amusement. They 
have no real dislike for humanity, but the constant rush of astral cur- 
rents set up by the restless ill-regulated desires of Europeans disturbs 
and annoys them. In India, they are more at ease and lie about under 
the palms and the bulbul trees. In Olcott Sahib's beautiful gardens in 
Madras, Earn has spent many joyous evenings in commune with them. 
Similar creatures are ever present in California, giving your state the 
indescribable charm of which you all talk so much and feel so little. In 
a quiet stroll in the woods near Alcalde with Madame Hhatch, Earn 
found them in myriads, some of them lurking in the branches of the 
eucalyptus trees, others had burrowed in the dry ground to form fairy 
homes. In Eam's visit to Angels he found them thick under Abner 


Dean's great pines. Around the abandoned mining shafts there were 
other essentials of an evil disposition with an unpleasant smell of sul- 
phur which suggested human origin. When examined and unrolled by 
means known to initiates, these sprites were found to be mere bundles 
of oaths held together by the force of spent passions and evaporate 
spirits of rye. The highest of these essentials or non-human entities is 
the deva, a superhuman essence destined to become man, but which has 
remained fixed for a time in an intermediate or higher stage. Such 
creatures, according to the common expression in Devachan, l have 
yielded to the temptation to become a god.' No blame attaches to this 
expression. The path to incarnation thus selected is not the shortest 
one, but it is a very noble one, and for some not yet well tempered for 
humanity it is the one best suited to their natures. It is of course im- 
possible at this stage of our striving to tell when we shall have earned 
the right to choose our own future. We should not, at any rate, before 
we ourselves reach Devachan, be too ready to despise those who have 
never seen fit to drop below that level. These devas are the winged 
globes and fiery wheels of our secret doctrine. There must of course 
be seven classes of these as there are seven of nature spirits and seven 
of elemental essences. For each class there must be a devarajah or king 
of devas, seven in all, but outside the circle of initiation, little is known 
and less must be said of the higher three. The four we know are called, 
respectively, the north, south, east and west wind, or the kings of earth, 
air, water and fire, clad, respectively in green, yellow, blue and red. 
These words and garments are symbols only telling nothing of their 
names or duties. These are inner mysteries of the White Mahatmas, 
unknown even to the Black Magicians, or to the seers of djinns and 

The last, or seventh, class of etheric entities is by far the most im- 
portant to man. The artificials are man-created and by their return in- 
fluence they make and unmake man. To this class belong the creations 
of the poet, undying and tangible in proportion to the poet's creative 
power. In this class too are all good wishes and all anathemas, all 
hopes, fears, faiths, creeds, and embodied loves and hates. All these 
find in time a living shape felt or seen by all canny psychic children 
in the flesh, a menace or a shield not limited by space or time. Ele- 
mental of this shape are often utilized in the e sendings ' of living 
objects transmitted invisible through space for the delight of a friend 
or the confusion of a foe. To this class belongs the white bird of the 
Oxenhams, whose appearance ever since the time of Queen Elizabeth is a 
sure presage of the death of some member of the family. In the noble 
family of the Whistlehursts a spectral coach drives up to the castle gate 
calling ' What, ho ! ', whenever a similar calamity is impending. 
Strains of wild music, the policeman's rattle, the blood-curdling shriek 
of a trampled cat, the clank of chains, all these are familiar to those who 


have looked into the phenomena of haunted houses. These elemental 
artificials are embodiments of man's will and thought. Once wrought 
together by longing, fear or crime, they may last for ages. An 
elemental, it has been wisely said, is a perfect storage battery from 
which there is practically no leakage. After a thousand years, a con- 
ception carefully worked out and firmly wrought together exhibits un- 
impaired vitality. In a famous case, such an artificial still warns the 
direct descendents of Sir Godfrey de Gespensterheim of their approach- 
ing doom by repeating in their ears the strange wailing music which was 
the dirge of his beloved son, Sir Lienhardt, seven hundred years ago in 

When these artificials are formed consciously and purposely they 
may be made the engines of tremendous power. Occultists of both the 
white and the black schools use them frequently and no influence in all 
the psychical universe can be so potent. But the evil use is not so com- 
mon as it would be were it not that the highest occult power is granted 
only to the virtuous, and the black magicians are often torn to pieces by 
fiends of their own raising. Thus cast back into Devachan, their former 
power is lost to them and their reincarnation as dogs or monkeys by way 
of purification is extremely probable. This accounts for the multitudes 
of these animals in the streets of Benares and Constantinople. It is 
their nature to haunt the scenes of their physical exploits. To make 
artificials of extreme virulence and power has been the work of the sect 
known as the Lords of the Dark Face. Among other things they 
formed ' wonderful speaking animals who had to be quieted by an offer- 
ing of blood lest they should awaken their masters and warn them of 
impending destruction.' From creatures of this type, created for a 
special purpose and afterwards neglected by an overworked magician, 
the race of parrots is descended. The devotees of the ghostly goddess 
Kale once performed rites too horrid to describe, and the results of 
which were the submergence of the continent of Lemuria with the loss . 
of sixty-five million, two hundred and eighty-five thousand human 
lives, besides several myriads of promising anthropoids only lately 
condensed from Devachan. Even Bam, a mere Swami who has been in 
Nirvana only as a mahatma's honored guest, could speak a word which 
could blast your mountains, blight your fruit or growing grain or 
flood your valley with the waters of the sea. Such mystic words there 
be and Ram knows them. Barn's finger could point unerringly to 
the limitless fountains of gold in your hills. But Bam stays his voice 
and withholds his hand, for his life is a life of meekness and self- 
renunciation and these things must not be. 

It is in the formation of artificials that a man's real character 
appears, whether" on the physical earth or in Astrum or Devachan. 
The true adept forswears all that may be harmful to others. He may 
not use his power for his own advancement, hence his vow of poverty 


is for the protection of his soul. Having no selfish end in view he 
is ready to believe and to worship. To the western mind, belief and 
worship are as yet undreamed of. Instead of the silence of Om and the 
perfect rest of Nirvana, you hope for more business, more action, more 
pain, more unrest. The physical plane is the goal of life and the 
six planes above it are valueless assets of dreamland, unless they can be 
laid out into city lots. Turn your faces to the East, Europeans, and 
learn of the patient, restful millions whose dreams, daily and nightly, 
bring more truth than all your struggles and your science of two 
thousand years. The religion of the West has long since lost its hold on 
thoughtful men and soulful women. The only reality in your lives is 
pain. The light of your old altar-fires is growing dim and when 
again it is relighted it must be in the name of the master of renuncia- 
tion whose servant and follower you behold in me. It shall be for the 
worship of the suffering unconscious to whom pain and pleasure are 
dreams alike, mere floating shadows which dim for the moment the 
perfect serenity of perfected being. 

After the conclusion of this passage, Madame Hhatch asked the 
privilege of a final word. She spoke of the learned Swami so far from 
his home and drew a pathetic picture of his life of renunciation and 
his vow of poverty. His heart yearns for Bombay and the light of his 
own altar-fires where the sweet sandalwood burns in its temples of per- 
fection, which are symbolized in the mouth-closing word Om. Yet he 
is forced to earn his bread on the other side of the earth teaching 
people who can not understand him and whose every contact raises 
blisters on his astral skin. It is our duty to open the way to his return 
to that which is dearer to him than life. 

So at the instance of Mr. Abram Gridley, the schoolmaster, we took 
up a generous collection which the young Brahmin received in patient 

As he passed out, Miss Violet Dreeme, of Fideletown, who is a 
poetess and suspected of jealousy toward Madame Hhatch, uttered the 
sole syllable of discord. " I read every word of that," she said, " in one 
of Mrs. Tingley's little books of Hindu Poetry." This Swami is the 
very man who was at the Midwinter Fair out at Golden Gate Park. 
He etches your portraits on cardboard with his fingers while you wait 
and he cheated me with a bad half-dollar. Why, Madame Silva, who 
told fortunes in the next booth, says that he got a reporter for the 
San Francisco Clarion to write this speech, and it was a whole month 
before he had it learned so that he could go through it straight. 

" The fact is, I am told, the Hindu in America has but one article of 
faith. More precious than rubies is the woman of leisure seeking for 
a new religion. The real ' Secret Doctrine of the Brahmins ' is this : 
' So beg that you will seem rather to grant than to receive a favor.' " 






HMHE advance workers in chemistry and physics are constantly 
-*- accumulating new facts and propounding new theories which 
must be digested and incorporated in the body of the sciences. The 
process of assimilation is often slow, and it is right that new and 
important facts should be vouched for by more than one investigator, 
and that a new theory should prove its usefulness before being placed 
beside old and tried facts and theories. But too often the effects of 
the advances are unduly delayed through a reluctance to revise old 
text-books or old lectures, perhaps not so much because of mere laziness, 
as because of a failure to appreciate the full force of the evidence in 
favor of new views, or of the advantages to be obtained by their adop- 
tion. The fact that the arguments for an innovation, for a time at 
least, are scattered through many journals, leads to an underestimate 
of their cumulative force. 

It is the purpose of this article to gather the main facts, some old, 
many recent, most of them fairly generally known, which are com- 
pelling us to alter our old definitions, and to show what a strong 
argument they make in favor of believing in the transmutation of the 
elements, the divisibility of the atoms and that what we call matter is 
simply a mode of motion. 

It is interesting to note the caution with which text-books express 
themselves when it is necessary to give definitions for these terms. 
By a careful choice of words most authors avoid making false state- 
ments, but they certainly do frequently lead their readers to unjusti- 
fiable conclusions. For instance, in Roscoe and Schorlemmer's 
' Treatise on Chemistry,' issued in 1891, we find the definition, ' An 
atom is the smallest portion of matter which can enter into a chemical 
compound.' As is the usual custom, the ideas of the alchemists regard- 
ing the possibility of transmuting metals is held up to ridicule, and 
thus, by implication at least, the ultimate nature of the elements and 
the idea that the atom is indivisible are infallibly conveyed to the reader. 
A more recent instance is to be found even in the late editions of one 
of the most widely used texts on general inorganic chemistry. In this 
book, on page 4, we read, ' Molecules may be defined as the smallest 
particles of matter which can exist in the free state'; on page 5, 
' Atoms are the smallest particles of matter which can take part in a 


chemical change'; on page 6, 'Molecules consisting of atoms of the 
same kind are termed elementary molecules, and substances whose 
molecules are so constituted are known as elements.' The numbers of 
the pages on which these statements occur are also significant. This 
reminds one of the methods of the old Greek philosophers, who pre- 
tended to solve all questions of science by pure deduction, positing 
some hypothesis, and then developing everything else by meditation in 
their closets, disdaining to disturb the order of their thoughts by ex- 
periments. But it is unworthy of the present age of inductive science, 
wherein every thought has, or should have, experimental evidence as 
its starting point. It can not be said that this particular author has 
made a false statement, but he has left the subject incomplete; cau- 
tiously reserving a loophole for his own escape, he fairly traps his 
readers. For it is inevitable that, with such didactic phraseology, and 
without having his attention called to the hypothetical, the tentative, 
nature of these definitions, the student should become convinced that 
the most fundamental facts of chemistry are that there are about 
eighty substances so simple that they can never be broken up into 
simpler things, and that all substances are composed of ultimate par- 
ticles, called atoms, eternally indivisible. 

A student started out with this hodgepodge of fact and theory 
thoroughly implanted in his mind as the basis for all his future knowl- 
edge is sadly handicapped, indeed he is intellectually maimed, and it 
may take him years to overcome the habit of confusing fact and theory, 
and to learn how to think straight; perhaps he never succeeds in over- 
coming it. This confusing of facts with theories is a vicious habit, 
which grows till it colors all one's thoughts, hinders the free play of 
the intellect, diminishes the power of right judgment and starts the 
ossification of the wits even before the age set by Dr. Osier. 

It is not necessary to consider a student of chemistry as an infant 
in arms to be fed on predigested food. He may be assumed to have a 
digestive apparatus of his own. Give him the benefit of any doubt 
and ascribe to him at least a dawning intelligence, which, properly 
stimulated, may some day shed some light of its own. It is the char- 
acteristic course of a lazy teacher, and one pleasing to lazy students as 
well, to supply a lot of personal opinions in the shape of cut and dried 
definitions, so easy to memorize and, unfortunately, so hard to forget; 
phrases which do not require the intellect to bestir itself and exercise 
its faculty of criticism, to pass judgment for itself between alternative 
or conflicting views. Strictly speaking, nothing should be presented 
in the form of a definition except what is, in itself, a statement of 
experimental facts, as, for instance, we describe or define a unit of 
measurement in terms of other units. When dealing with a subject 
where more than one opinion is permissible, all should be stated, or at 


least the attention should be directed to the fact that others draw dif- 
ferent conclusions from the same premises. 

The average student is better able to face issues and weigh argu- 
ments than most of us realize, and it is more important to educate 
those falling below the average in this particular than in any other. 
We should state the facts and then reason in such a way as to teach 
students how to think. It is indispensable for them to learn to think 
for themselves. Great stores of chemical facts are of but little real 
use, unless accompanied by an ability to adapt and to apply them in 
new conditions, unforeseen by either teacher or student in school or 
university days, but surely coming in after life. It is the prime neces- 
sity for research work or for originality of any kind, and we all are 
willing to admit that originality is what should be cultivated. 

There is a great difference between the phrases, ' elements are sub- 
stances which can not be broken up ' and ' elements are substances 
which we have not as yet succeeded in breaking up ' ; and we should 
mark well the difference. This caution, lest we slip into the error of 
stating as fact more than we really know, is the distinguishing differ- 
ence between the chemistry of to-day and the chemistry of a few years 
ago. It is more than this, it expresses concisely the difference between 
the way in which any science should be taught and studied, and the 
way in which it should be neither taught nor studied. 

This particular differentiation between two definitions of the term 
element has been more than justified by the results which have followed 
the last ten years' work in pure chemistry, spectroscopy, radioactivity 
and Eontgenology (a term which has been seriously proposed by one 
of that fraternity which seems to consider its main function in life 
to be the coinage of new words). 

The main arguments which may be marshaled in favor of consid- 
ering the elements as ultimates, and the atoms as indivisible consist: 

First, of all those facts which Dalton condensed into the laws of 
definite and multiple proportions, and to which there have been as 
many additions as there have been analyses and syntheses made before 
or since his time. 

Second, Dulong and Petit's law that the atomic heats of all solid 
elements are the same. 

Third, the isomorphism of many compounds containing similar 
elements, a phenomenon discovered by Mitscherlich. 

Fourth, Faraday's law, that equivalent quantities of the elements 
are deposited at the electrodes during electrolysis. 

Truly, an imposing array of evidence, and more than sufficient to 
justify us in making the assumption that atoms exist. But curiously 
enough, there is not one item amongst all these facts compelling us to 
believe that these atoms are the ultimate constituents, or that they are 
indivisible. These latter hypotheses are purely gratuitous, tacked on 


by Dalton and retained by succeeding chemists and physicists for no 
good reason. Perhaps because imitation is a characteristic inherited 
from our simian ancestry, and is so much easier for us than originality. 
Many a chemist looks askance at any tampering with the atoms, 
apparently fearing that it may hurt them, or even destroy them utterly 
and the atomic weights with them. Or he trembles for his spidery 
and tenuous structural formula?, knowing full well that if deprived of 
these he will be irretrievably lost in a labyrinth, without a thread to 
guide him. While, if he is not permitted to think of the carbon atom 
as a little chunk of matter, tetrahedral in form, he thinks he is 
launched on a sea of troubles. 

, But all this apprehension arises from a misunderstanding. That 
the atomic weights remain unharmed and unaltered, as the units for 
chemical calculations, and that nothing which is good or useful about 
the atomic theory is destroyed or even assailed by the new ideas, that 
the trend of these new ideas is unmistakably constructive and not 
destructive, are best shown by a review of the arguments in favor of 
the hypothesis that the atom is divisible, and that our elements are 
not elements in the true sense of the word. 

There is nothing new in this view ; it formed the first article of the 
faith of the alchemists. It was unqualifiedly denied by Dalton, and 
fell into such disrepute that even within recent years one risked being 
called a dreamer, or even a fool, if he dared to consider it possible. 
Here again is an instance of the desirability of being as precise as pos- 
sible in the use of terms. Many believe experimental evidence of the 
complexity of ' elementary atoms ' and the existence of one ' mother 
substance ' must be followed immediately by directions for transform- 
ing elements into one another; by the transmutation of baser metals 
into gold. But these are two wholly distinct propositions. An 
astronomer might locate a mountain of gold on the surface of the 
moon, but there would still be a goodly chasm to bridge before he 
derived much material benefit from his discovery ! 

The idea that there is one fundamental substance would not down. 
The hypothesis of the English physician, Prout, is a familiar one. 
When the atomic weight of hydrogen is set equal to unity, the atomic 
weights of all the other elements come out remarkably close to whole 
numbers. There exist numerous groups of three elements, commonly 
called Dobereiner's triads, the individual members of one group being 
similar in their chemical properties, and so related that the atomic 
weight of the middle member is the arithmetic mean of the atomic 
weights of the extreme members. These are the facts which led Prout 
to suggest that there was but one element, namely, hydrogen, the others 
being complexes containing different quantities of this ultimate sub- 
stance. It followed that the differences between the atomic weights 
and whole numbers were to be ascribed to experimental errors in the 


determination of these values. The desire to test this hypothesis was 
one of the chief motives for some of the most careful determinations 
of atomic weights which have ever been made. These determinations 
resulted in proving that the divergences of the atomic weights from 
whole numbers were greater than could be accounted for on the basis 
of experimental errors. This precluded the possibility that the atom 
of hydrogen was the common ultimate unit, but did not dispose of the 
possibility that a half, or quarter, or some other fraction, of the 
hydrogen atom might play that role. 

In 1901 Strutt 1 applied the mathematical methods of the theory 
of probabilities to the most accurately determined atomic weights, and 
calculated that the chance that they should fall as close to whole num- 
bers as they do was only one in one thousand. The inference from 
this is that it is not a matter of chance, but that there is a regularity 
in the atomic weights which we do not understand; a regularity which 
points to the probability that our elements are complex substances, 
constructed according to some system, from some simpler substance. 

All the facts comprised in that great generalization, the periodic 
law, which states that the properties of the elements, both chemical 
and physical, are functions of their atomic weights, and most of them 
are periodic functions, point unmistakably to the same conclusion. 

The evidence from spectroscopic analysis is so abundant that it is 
not easy to compress it into a few general statements. 

In the first place, the spectrum of each of our elements consists of 
numerous lines, a fact not exactly compatible with the notion of ex- 
treme simplicity of the particles emitting the light. 

In the second place, one and the same element, contrary to common 
belief, frequently has two or three distinctly different spectra, the 
particular spectrum which appears depending upon the pressure and 
the temperature at which the element is while emitting the light. 
In fact the extraordinary spectroscopic results obtained when highly 
rarefied gases enclosed in tubes (variously called Plucker, Hittorf, 
Geissler or Crookes tubes) were made luminous by the passage of high 
potential electricity, induced Crookes to suggest in 1887 a theory that 
the elements were all built up by gradual condensation with falling 
temperature from a fundamental substance to which he gave the name 
protyl. 2 

In the third place, the lines in the spectrum of one element may be 
separated out into several series. Each line corresponds, as is well 
known, to light of a definite wave length. The wave lengths of the 
lines comprised in one series are related to each other in such a way 
that a general formula may be derived for them. This means that, 
given some of the lines, the wave lengths, and thus the positions, of 

1 ~R. J. Strutt, Philosophical Magazine, March, 1901, p. 311. 
2 ' The Genesis of the Elements,' W. Crookes. 


other lines belonging in the same series may be calculated. In this 
way the positions of certain lines for certain elements were foretold. 
Search failed to reveal all of them in light emitted by the element at 
any temperature producible in the laboratory. But some of the miss- 
ing lines have been found in the spectra of the hottest stars, stars far 
hotter than our sun. At the same time many of the lines obtained by 
terrestrial means are lacking in the spectra of these stars. We have 
ample experimental evidence that many complex substances dissociate, 
as we call it, into less complex substances within the temperature 
range readily controlled in the laboratory. The inference is right at 
hand that at extreme, at stellar, temperatures our elements themselves 
are dissociated into simpler substances. To these substances, our ele- 
ments, in this other condition, have been given their customary names, 
but with the prefix proto. Thanks to the introduction of Rowland's 
diffraction gratings for the study of these spectra, we have observa- 
tions indicating the existence of proto hydrogen, proto calcium, proto 
magnesium, proto iron and so on through a list of a dozen or more 
1 proto ' elements. 3 

Continuation of the work upon which Crookes was engaged resulted 
in the discovery of the X-rays by Eontgen in 1895. This date may 
be said to mark a new era in many of our conceptions regarding the 
universe about us. To J. J. Thomson, professor of physics at Cam- 
bridge, England, we owe the greater part of our present knowledge of 
the cathode rays. He devised most of the experiments and the in- 
genious, but strictly logical, reasoning which justify us in supposing 
that these cathode rays consist of swarms of minute particles, which 
he called corpuscles (reviving an old term and an old theory of Isaac 
Xewton's) ; particles moving with velocities approaching that of light, 
each one carrying a charge of what we call negative electricity. He, 
and those working with him, determined the quantity of this electrical 
charge to be the same on each corpuscle, and to be the same as the 
charge we have good reason to suppose is carried by any monovalent 
ion in solution. By several methods the approximate number of these 
particles in a given volume and the weight of the individual particle 
were estimated. This weight appears to be about one eight-hundredth 
of the weight generally ascribed to the hydrogen atom, the lightest of 
all the atoms. It may be objected that there is no positive proof of 
the existence of these corpuscles, nor do we know the weight or mass 
of one of them. That is very true, but neither have we positive proof 
of the existence of atoms, nor do we know the weight of one atom. 
^Ye can only say that the evidence makes the existence of these minute 
individuals, atoms and corpuscles extremely plausible, and makes one 
as plausible as the other. 

3 The methods, facts and reasonings relating to this spectroscopic evidence 
are interestingly given in ' Inorganic Evolution ' by Sir Norman Loekyer. 


Grant that we have discovered particles — in round numbers one 
thousandth part the size and weight of the hydrogen atom — the argu- 
ment is still not complete for the divisibility of the atom. Perhaps we 
have found a new element. But cathode rays were produced under 
circumstances where they must have arisen from the cathode itself, and 
it is hard to escape from the conclusion that the atoms of the cathode 
disintegrated to a certain extent to furnish these particles. Further- 
more, rays have been studied having as their sources different metals 
under the influence of electrical currents, different metals heated 
to incandescence, flames of different kinds and ultra-violet light; and 
these rays appear to consist of corpuscles of the same weight, no 
matter what their source. This makes it difficult to escape from the 
further conclusion that atoms of a great variety of natures are capable 
of disintegrating and of furnishing the same product by the disintegra- 
tion ; 4 and this is as much as to say that instead of about eighty differ- 
ent elements we have one ' mother substance,' and Prout's hypothesis 
is once more very much alive, somewhat modified, it is true, and in a 
new garb, better suited to the present fashions. 

It remains to rehearse briefly the evidence to be obtained from 
radio-active phenomena. In the first place, the rays incessantly sent 
out from these extraordinary substances consist, at least in part, of 
rays like the cathode rays, and are streams of the same kind of cor- 
puscles, but, on the whole, traveling with greater velocities than the 
corpuscles of the cathode rays. It has been proved by Eutherford and 
Soddy that the emission of the radiations from these substances is 
accompanied by a disintegration, or decay, as they describe it, of the 
substances themselves. These investigators have caught some of the 
products of this decay and have studied their properties. These prod- 
ucts themselves deca} r , some slowly, some rapidly, sending forth other 
rays and furnishing new products to decay in turn. Indeed each new 
issue of a scientific journal for the past few years seems to chronicle 
the birth, life and death of a fresh radio-active substance. The rate 
at which new offspring of radium, thorium and allied elements are 
discovered and studied during their fleeting existences reminds one of 
nothing so much as the genealogy of Noah as given in the fifth chapter 
of Genesis. 5 

4 Experimental details, and also comprehensive treatments of the subject 
as a whole and of special parts, may be found in three books by J. J. Thomson: 
'The Discharge of Electricity through Gases' (based on lectures given at 
Princeton University in October, 1896); 'Conduction of Electricity through 
Gases' (a larger book); 'Electricity and Matter' (lectures delivered at Yale 
University in 1903). 

B It is an indication of the widespread interest in this subject, and of the 
activity of the workers in this field, that one journal, in the year 1905, con- 
tained no less than 167 abstracts of articles upon radioactive phenomena. E. 
Rutherford's book, ' Radio-activity,' 2d edition, 1905, is a masterly survey of 
the whole subject. 


These products appear to be elements, and this idea that some ele- 
ments may have existences of but short duration, from a few seconds 
to many years, is a decidedly novel one. It has been suggested that 
this may account for some of the vacant spaces in our periodic table 
of the elements, particularly in the neighborhood of thorium, radium 
and uranium. Perhaps these spaces never will be occupied except by 
transients. Indeed it is not impossible that all our elements are mere 
transients, mere conditions of things, all undergoing change. But 
there is no immediate danger of their all vanishing away in the form 
of rays and emanations. Rutherford has calculated that radium will 
be half transformed in about 1,300 years, that uranium will be half 
transformed in 6 X 10 s years, and thorium in about 2.4 X 10 9 years. 
■We may safely say the other elements are decaying much more slowly, 
so we may continue to direct our anxieties towards the probable dura- 
tion of our coal beds and deposits of iron ore as matters of more present 

The objection may be raised that perhaps radium should not be 
classed as an element, but rather should be considered as an unstable 
compound in the act of breaking down into its elements. But the 
answer to this objection is at hand. The evolution of energy accom- 
panying these changes is far in excess of that obtainable from any 
known chemical process, so far in excess that it is certain we are deal- 
ing with a source of energy hitherto unknown to us, with a wholly 
new class of phenomena. The following quotation from Whetham 6 will 
convey an adequate conception of the magnitude of the forces at work 
here : 

It is possible to determine the mass and the velocity of the projected 
particles, and. therefore, to calculate their kinetic energy. From the prin- 
ciples of the molecular theory, we know that the number of atoms in a gram 
of a solid material is about 10 20 . Four or five successive stages in the dis- 
integration of radium have been recognized, and, on the assumption that each 
of these involves the emission of only one particle, the total energy of radia- 
tion which one gram of radium could furnish if entirely disintegrated seems 
to be enough to raise the temperature of 10 s grams, or about 100 tons, of 
water through one degree centigrade. This is an underestimate ; it is possible 
that it should be increased ten or a hundred times. As a mean value, we may 
say that, in mechanical units, the energy available for radiation in one ounce 
of radium is sufficient to raise a weight of something like ten thousand tons 
one mile high. 


the energy liberated by a given amount of radioactive change ... is at 
least 500,000 times, and may be 10,000,000 times, greater than that involved in 
the most energetic chemical action known. 

The theory that the source of most of the sun's energy is a decay 
of elements analogous to radium, to disintegration of atoms, is acknowl- 
edged to account better than any previous theory for the great quantity 

6 ' The Recent Development of Physical Science,' W. C. D. Whetham. 


of this energy which we observe, and for the length of time during 
which it must have been given off according to the evidences of geology. 

There is no chemical reaction which is not hastened or retarded 
by a change in temperature. In general, the velocity of a chemical 
reaction is increased by an elevation of the temperature and diminished 
by a reduction of the temperature. But radium compounds emit their 
rays undisturbed, at an even, unaltered rate, whether they be heated 
to a high temperature or cooled by immersion in liquid hydrogen and, 
what is perhaps equally striking, whether they are in the solid state 
or dissolved in some solvent. 

In view of such facts as these, it is idle to suppose that radium is 
an unstable compound decomposing into its elements, using the terms 
compound and element in their usual sense. Conflict as it may with 
preconceived opinions, we seem forced to concede, not only that the 
transmutation of the elements is possible, but also that these trans- 
mutations are going on under our very eyes. 

As has already been pointed out, this does not mean that we shall 
shortly be able to convert our elements into each other. Far from it, 
up to the present time we have not the slightest idea how to initiate 
such a process nor how to stop it. We can not, by any means known 
to us, even alter the rate at which it proceeds. 

Now how shall we fit all these new facts and ideas in with our old 
ones regarding the elements and atoms, and how many of the old ideas 
must be discarded? Brief consideration is enough to convince us that 
very few of the old ideas, in fact none of value, need be sacrificed. We 
must indeed grant that Dalton's fundamental assumption is false, that 
the atom, in spite of its name, is divisible, and consequently that our 
elements are not our simplest substances, but decidedly complicated 
complexes. But all the facts included in the laws of definite and 
multiple proportions remain fixed and reliable, as indeed must all facts, 
expressions of actual experimental results, no matter what else varies. 
And there is not the least necessity for altering the methods of using 
atomic weights in calculations, nor for ceasing to use structural dia- 
grams and models for molecules. We must merely modify our ideas 
and definition of an atom, and this modification is in the direction of 
an advance. We know more about an atom, or think we do. 

Assume the inferences from the evidence just reviewed to be correct, 
and how do they affect our conception of the atom? First of all, our 
smallest, lightest, simplest atom, that of hydrogen, becomes an aggrega- 
tion of about eight hundred smaller particles or corpuscles, and the 
atoms of other elements become aggregations of as many corpuscles as 
are obtained by multiplying the atomic weight of the element by eight 
hundred. Thus the atom of mercury must be thought of as containing 
800 times 200, or 160,000, corpuscles. Next, the methods by which we 
believe we can calculate the approximate size of atoms and corpuscles 


give us values which enable us to make such comparisons as the follow- 
ing, suggested by Sir Oliver Lodge : ' The corpuscle is so small as com- 
pared to the atom that it, within the atom, may be likened to a mouse 
in a cathedral,' or ' the corpuscle is to the whole atom as the earth and 
other planets are to the whole solar system.' 

These corpuscles are probably gyrating about each other, or about 
some common center, with velocities approaching that of light. It 
seems needful to suppose this, for it is hard to imagine that the 
enormous velocities observed could be imparted to a corpuscle at the 
instant it leaves the atom to become a constituent of a cathode ray. 
It is more reasonable to imagine that the corpuscle already had this 
velocity and that it flew off at a tangent owing to some influence we do 
not understand. 

This may appear, after all, to be little more than pushing back our 
questions one stage, so that the position occupied in our thoughts but 
yesterday by the atom is now occupied by the corpuscle. Quite true, 
but this is in itself a great step, for the advancement of knowledge 
consists of nothing else than such pushing back of the boundaries. We 
dare not assume the end is reached, for there is no proof that the 
corpuscles are ultimate. They mark the present limit of our imagin- 
ings based on experiment, but no one can say but what the next cen- 
tury may possibly witness the shattering of the corpuscles into as many 
parts as it now appears to take to make an atom. 

The question is a legitimate one, do we know any more about these 
' new-fangled ' corpuscles than we did about the old atoms ? The 
answer is, yes, we probably do. We can go further in our reasoning 
on the basis of the properties of the corpuscles, and arrive at results 
which are startling when heard for the first time. 

Lenard 7 has shown that the absorption of cathode rays by different 
substances is simply proportional to the specific gravity of those sub- 
stances and independent of their chemical properties. It is even 
independent of the condition of aggregation, i. e., whether the absorb- 
ing substance be investigated as a gas, as a liquid or as a solid. This 
is another strong argument in favor of the view that there is but one 
' mother substance ' which consists of corpuscles. The corpuscles of 
the cathode rays must be considered as passing unimpeded through the 
interstices between the corpuscles of the atom. Lenard calls the cor- 
puscles dynamides and considers them as fields of electrical force with 
impenetrable central bodies which then constitute actual matter. He 
calculates the diameter of this center of actual matter as smaller than 
0.3 X 10- 10 (= 0.000,000,000,03) millimeter. Applying these results 
to the case of the metal platinum, one of the most dense of the metals, 
one of those with the highest specific gravity, he concludes that a solid 

T Wied. Anna!., 5G, p. 255 (1895), and Dntdes Annul., 12, 714 (1903). 


cubic meter of platinum is in truth an empty space, with the exception 
of, at the outside, one cubic millimeter occupied by the actual matter 
of the dynamides. 

If we can thus reasonably and mathematically eliminate the matter 
of a cubic meter of one of our densest metals to such an extent, it 
should not be very difficult to make one more effort and eliminate that 
insignificant little cubic millimeter still remaining, and say, with 
cogent reasons behind us for the statement, that there is no matter at 
all, but simply energy in motion. This is exactly what has been done 
by many who occupy high and authoritative positions in the scien- 
tific world. 

Long before experimental evidence of the existence of corpuscles 
had been obtained, it was demonstrated that an electrically charged 
body, moving with high velocity, had an apparent mass greater than its 
true mass, because of the electrical charge. The faster it moved the 
greater became its apparent mass or, what comes to the same thing, 
assuming the electrical charge to remain unaltered, the greater the 
velocity the less the mass of the body carrying the charge needed to be 
to have always the same apparent mass. It was calculated that when 
the velocity equaled that of light, it was not necessary to assume that 
the body carrying the charge had any mass at all ! In other words, 
the bit of electric charge moving with the velocity of light would have 
weight and all the properties of mass. 

This might be looked upon as an interesting mathematical abstrac- 
tion, but without any practical application, if it were not for the fact 
that Kaufmann 8 determined the apparent masses of corpuscles shot 
out from a radium preparation at different velocities, and compared 
them with the masses calculated on the basis that the whole of the 
mass was due to the electric charge. The agreement between the ob- 
served and calculated values is so close that it leads Thomson to say: 
" These results support the view that the ivlwlc mass of these electrified 
particles arises from their charge." 9 

Then the corpuscles are to be looked upon as nothing but bits of 
electric charge, not attached to matter at all, just bits of electric charge, 
nothing more nor less. It is this view which has led to the introduction 
of the term electron, first proposed by Stoney, to indicate in the name 
itself the immaterial nature of these ultimates of our present knowl- 
edge. We have but to concede the logical sequence of this reasoning, 
all based on experimental evidence, and the last stronghold of the 
materialists is carried, and we have a universe of energy in which 
matter has no necessary part. 

If we accept the electron theory, our atoms are to be considered 

s Phys. Zeitschr., 1902, p. 54. 
1 ' Electricity and Matter,' p. 48. 


as consisting of bits of electric charge in rapid motion, owing their 
special properties to the number of such bits within them, and also, no 
doubt, to the particular orbits described by the electrons. If space 
permitted it would be interesting to show how admirably the periodicity 
of the properties of the elements, as expressed in Mendelejeffs table, 
can be accounted for on the basis of an increasing number of like 
electrons constituting the atoms of the successive elements. We have 
molecules consisting, at the simplest, of two such systems within the 
sphere of each other's attraction, perhaps something as we have double 
stars in the heavens. 

A possible explanation of the puzzling property of valence is offered, 
in that an atom less one electron, or plus one electron, may be consid- 
ered as electrically charged, and therefore capable of attracting other 
bodies, oppositely charged, to form electrically neutral systems. An 
atom less two electrons, or with two electrons in excess, would have 
twice the ability to combine, it would be what we call divalent, and so 
on. An electronic structure of the atom furnishes a basis from which 
a plausible explanation of the refraction, polarization and rotation of 
the plane of polarized light may be logically derived. Hitherto ex- 
planations for the observed facts have been either wanting or more or 
less unsatisfactory. For instance, grant the actual existence of tetra- 
hedral carbon atoms, with different groups asymmetrically arranged 
at the apices, and yet we can not see any good and valid reason why 
such a structure should be able to rotate the plane of polarized light. 
Grant that the molecule consists of systems of corpuscles traveling in 
well-defined orbits, and we see at once how light, consisting of other 
electrons of the same kind, traversing this maze, must be influenced. 

Adopting this theory of corpuscles or electrons, not a concept of 
any value need be abandoned. On the contrary, the theory furnishes 
us with plausible explanations of many facts previously unexplained. 
Its influence is all in a forward direction towards a simplification and 
unification of our knowledge of nature. 

A few words must be said regarding the old, the threadbare, argu- 
ment which, of course, is cited against the electron theory. The 
materialist says he simply can not accept a theory which obliges him 
to give up the idea of the existence of matter ; he says the table is there 
because he can see it and feel it and that must end the discussion for 
any one with common sense and moderately good judgment. Now it 
is the reverse of common sense to let that end the discussion, and our 
materialist is pluming himself on precisely those qualities which he 
most conspicuously lacks. He assumes the obnoxious theory to involve 
consequences which it does not involve and then condemns it because 
of those consequences. As a rule it is because he knows little about it, 
and has thought less, that he assumes the electron theory to be pure 
idealism in an ingenious disguise, that form of idealism which asserts 

VOL. LXIX.— 4. 


that there is no universe outside ourselves and that everything is a 
figment of the imagination of the observer. The electron theory pos- 
tulates a universe of energy outside ourselves. It does not deny the 
existence of the table; quite the reverse, it asserts it and then offers a 
detailed description of it, and why it has the properties which it has. 
This is more than any materialistic theory can do. The electron theory 
affirms the existence of what we ordinarily call matter. It defines, 
describes, explains these things, ordinarily called matter, in a clear and 
logical manner, on the basis of experimental evidence, as a mode of 
motion. It opposes the use of the word matter, solely because that 
word has come to stand, not only for the object, but also for the as- 
sumption that there is something there which is not energy. 

Another groundless objection is offered by the materialists. They 
say this electron theory is clever, perhaps plausible, but very vague and 
hopelessly theoretical. Of course it is theoretical, but it is a theory 
more intimately connected with experimental facts than any other 
theory regarding the ultimate constituents. One departs further from 
known facts in assuming the existence of a something to be called 
matter. What is this matter which so many insist that we must 
assume? jSTo one can define it otherwise than in terms of energy. 
But forms of energy are not matter as the materialist understands the 
word. Starting with any object and removing one by one its proper- 
ties, indubitably forms of energy, we are finally left with a blank, a 
sort of a hole in creation, which the imagination is totally unable to 
fill in. The last resort is the time-honored definition, ' matter is the 
carrier of energy/ but it is impossible to describe it. The assumption 
that matter exists is made then because there must be a carrier of 
energy. But why must there be a carrier of energy? This is an 
assertion, pure and simple, with no experimental backing. Before we 
have a right to make it we should obtain some matter ' strictly pure ' 
and free from any energy, or, at least, we should be able to demonstrate 
on some object what part of it is the energy and what part the matter, 
the carrier of the energy. "We have not done this, we have never 
demonstrated anything but forms of energy, and so we have no evi- 
dence that there is any such thing as matter. To say that it exists is 
theorizing without experimental evidence as a basis. The materialistic 
theory postulates energy and also matter, both theoretical if you will; 
the electron theory postulates energy only. Therefore the electron 
theory is the less theoretical and the less vague of the two. 

From the philosophical standpoint, having deprived an object of 
all that we know about it, all forms of energy, there remains what may 
be called the 'residuum of the unknown.' We are not justified in 
saying that nothing remains; we can only say nothing remains which 
affects, either directly or indirectly, any of our senses through which 
we become cognizant of the external universe. If the materialist 


takes the stand that this unknown residuum is what he calls matter, 
although any other name would be equally appropriate, it must be 
acknowledged that his position is at present impregnable, and that 
sort of matter exists. But it is nothing with which experimental 
science can deal. A fair statement would appear to be: The electron 
theory accounts for, or may be made to account for, all known facts. 
Besides these there is a vast unknown within whose precincts matter 
may or may not exist. 

Michael Faraday is acknowledged to have been one of the ablest of 
experimenters and clearest of thinkers. His predominant character- 
istic may be said to be the caution which he used in expressing views 
reaching beyond the domain of experimental facts. His authority 
rightly carries great weight, and it is therefore of particular signifi- 
cance that he expressed himself more definitely upon these questions 
than appears to be generally known. In an article published in 1814 10 
he savs: 


If we must assume at all, as indeed in a branch of knowledge like the 
present we can hardly help it, then the safest course appears to be to assume 
as little as possible, and in that respect the atoms of Boscovich appear to me 
to have a great advantage over the more usual notion. His atoms, if I under- 
stand aright, are mere centers of forces or powers, not particles of matter, in 
which the powers themselves reside. If, in the ordinary view of atoms, we 
call the particle of matter away from the powers a, and the system of powers 
or forces in and around it m, then in Boseovich's theory a disappears, or is a 
mere mathematical point, whilst in the usual notion it is a little unchangeable, 
impenetrable piece of matter, and m is an atmosphere of force grouped around 
it. . . . To my mind, therefore, the a or nucleus vanishes, and the substance 
consists of the powers or m ; and indeed what notion can we form of the nucleus 
independent of its powers? All our perception and knowledge of the atom, 
and even our fancy, is limited to ideas of its powers: what thought remains 
on which to hang the imagination of an a independent of the acknowledged 
forces? A mind just entering on the subject may consider it difficult to 
think of the powers of matter independent of a separate something to be called 
the matter, but it is certainly far more difficult, and indeed impossible, to 
think of or imagine that matter independent of the powers. Now the powers 
we know and recognize in every phenomenon of the creation, the abstract matter 
in none; why then assume the existence of that of which we are ignorant, 
which we can not conceive, and for which there is no philosophical necessity? 

There is a striking analogy between the present condition of our 
science and our discussions, and those prevailing in the latter half of 
the eighteenth century when the phlogiston theory was almost univer- 
sally accepted. We all now believe that heat is a mode of motion and 
smile at the thought that there were those who considered heat as a 
material. The materialistic theory is the phlogiston theory of our 
day, and perhaps the time is not far distant when the same indulgent 
smile will be provoked by the thought that there were those unwilling 
to believe that matter is a mode of motion. 

10 ' Experimental Researches in Electrieitv,' Michael Faradav, Vol. 2, pp. 




HP HE facts and evils of food adulteration have been overwhelmingly 
-*- established. They have been published in volume after volume 
of state and federal government reports, and have been sworn to 
again and again by competent experts. State courts have imposed 
fines, and in hundreds of instances manufacturers and dealers have 
confessed that their food is adulterated, and judgments are entered 
accordingly. Yet, the evil is so strongly entrenched in business sys- 
tems that a proposition to put truthful labels on foods and drugs 
intended for interstate commerce has met continuous defeat for more 
than fifteen years at the national capital. 

Most of the states have enacted laws to control the manufacture and 
sale of foods. Some of these laws are good. Others contain bad 
provisions in an otherwise good law, provisions intended to nullify the 
law as it may apply to the several practises which food legislation is 
needed to correct, and such provisions but serve to legalize some 
adulteration which would have been subject to prosecution at common 
law. The main principles of the state laws have been well established 
by the Appellate Courts of the states and by the United States Supreme 
Court in a long train of decisions. With this backing, some eight or 
nine of the states are thoroughly enforcing their laws, and, as a result, 
there is a marked betterment in the food supply coming into such 

The State Food Control Officials have an organization known as 
the Interstate Pure Food Commission. The commission was organized 
in 1896 for the purpose of bringing about uniformity among the state 
laws and securing the passage by congress of a law to apply to inter- 
state commerce. This commission has held annual meetings, and at 
each meeting resolutions were adopted setting forth urgent reasons 
for national legislation to supplement the state laws. In nineteen 
hundred and three at Saint Paul, Minnesota, the commission called a 
joint meetings of manufacturing interests, state officials and repre- 
sentatives from the Bureau of Chemistry and the Inspection Divi- 
sion of the Bureau of Animal Industry of the United States Depart- 
ment of Agriculture. The manufacturers were given the full privilege 
of the floor, the discussions were frank, and, as a result of the meeting, 
the officials were impressed with the fact that in the preservation of 
the large fruit and vegetable crops much of food adulteration comes 


from problems which the manufacturing interests are honestly en- 
deavoring to overcome. As a further result of tins meeting, it was im- 
pressed upon all that food-control legislation should he correct labeling 
rather than prohibitive, except where substances are positively in- 
jurious to health. 

The Saint Paul meeting was followed by a similar and larger meet- 
ing at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in the nature of an Inter- 
national Pure Food Congress, and an exhibit showing adulterated 
brands of foods. The Saint Louis meeting was the largest of its kind 
ever assembled, and was a week, day and evening, of frank, honest 
discussion among officials, scientists and representatives from the 
several manufacturing interests. The congress discussed antiseptics, 
artificial colors, fruit, vegetable, dairy and meat products, confection- 
ery, baking powders, wines, beers, distilled liquors and drugs. Special 
committees reported resolutions on the various questions, and among 
the resolutions adopted was a unanimous endorsement of the Hepburn 
Pure Food Bill which had passed the United States House of Eepre- 
sentatives the previous winter. 

For more than twenty years the Bureau of Chemistry of the United 
States Department of Agriculture has thrown the weight of its in- 
fluence to the investigation of food and drug adulteration and its 
effect upon health. This bureau has had the cooperation of the asso- 
ciation of Official Agricultural Chemists in perfecting methods of food 
analyses and in collaborating on a set of food standards. It is the 
agricultural chemist who has detected and called the country's at- 
tention to the evils of food adulteration. Formerly laws regulating the 
sale of foods were left to the boards of health to be enforced, but it 
is only as the states have created divisions of chemistry in the Depart- 
ment of Health, or have turned the work over to their experiment 
stations, or have organized state food commissions and equipped them 
with laboratories, that results have been obtained under state laws. 

Food and drug adulteration has grown up because interests have 
been permitted to violate certain principles of identification in the sale 
of their products. When purchasers know where a product was made, 
when it was made and who made it, and are informed of the true nature 
and substance of the article offered for consumption, it is almost im- 
possible to impose upon the most ignorant and careless consumers. 
Trade-mark law requires correct labeling as to who made an article 
and establishes the principle that a man is not to sell his goods 
under the pretense that they are the goods of another man, nor 
can he use any means which will contribute to this end. This prin- 
ciple has been upheld in courts as not only necessary to secure to each 
man the fruits of his own toil, but also as a protection to the public 
against fraud. Only the one, however, whose trade-mark is infringed 
has a cause of action before the courts, and where there is a business 


arrangement, or where monopoly operates, to pnt the combined product 
of many factories into the market under that trade-mark which is 
most in favor with consumers the public have no remedy at trade-mark 
law. The large wholesalers oppose the proposition to have the label 
tell, under all circumstances, the name of the real manufacturer. The 
independent manufacturing firms strongly favor it. There is nothing 
so fatal to monopoly or so stimulating to the competition of individual 
merit as where law requires an article of merchandise to be always 
identified in the market with the name of the person or firm who 
made it. 

Congress has passed several laws relating to inspection and cor- 
rect labeling. In 1890, a law was passed authorizing the inspection of 
meats intended for export, and forbidding the importation of adulter- 
ated foods and drugs. In 1891, the meat inspection provided for in the 
act was extended to meats intended for interstate shipment. The pro- 
visions of this law were further extended in the Appropriation Act of 
the United States Department of Agriculture for 1905 to apply to 
daily products intended for export. In 1896 congress provided for the 
bottling of genuine whiskey in bond and its identification to the con- 
sumer by means of a tax stamp over the cork. In 1897 a law was 
passed prohibiting the importation of inferior teas, and providing for 
a board of experts to adopt standards by which to measure the quality 
of imported teas. The law and the provision authorizing this board 
of standards have been held to be constitutional by the United States 
Supreme Court. During the war with Spain a special tax was levied 
upon certain products, among them adulterated flour. The tax stamp 
served to identify the flour subject to this tax, and the business was at 
once destroyed. In repealing the war taxes the act relating to adul- 
terated flour was not repealed. 

In 1896 Congress passed an act providing for the taxing and label- 
ing of filled cheese. Oleomargarine was a subject of federal legislation 
as early as 1885. This act was passed as a tax measure, and in con- 
nection therewith provided for the proper labeling of oleomargarine. 
This law was amended in 1902, fixing the tax on oleomargarine, colored 
to resemble butter, at ten cents per pound, and on the uncolored at 
one fourth of one cent per pound. It also taxes renovated butter, and 
requires it to be so branded. 

The Appropriation Act of the United States Department of Agri- 
culture for 1903 and subsequent appropriation acts have authorized 
the Secretary of Agriculture to put into effect the act of 1890 relating 
to the importation of adulterated foods and drugs, and to adopt and 
fix standards for guidance in the enforcement of the law. Appropria- 
tion acts of the Department of Agriculture have also authorized the 
study of the effect of antiseptics and artificial colors on the human 
system. It was under these acts that the chief of the Bureau of 


Chemistry, assisted by details from the medical staff of the army, 
experimented with the ' poison squad/ and as a result has recommended 
against the use of salicylic, benzoic and boric acids to preserve foods. 

Congress passed a good law in 1902 prohibiting the misbranding 
of foods as to the state or territory in which the product is produced. 
This law was passed primarily to keep western cheese producers from 
labeling their product as { New York ' cream cheese. The law applies, 
however, to all foods, and it puts into partial practise one of the im- 
portant principles of identification, namely, where a product is made. 
Where a product is made is an important bit of knowledge. Foods 
sometimes have exceptional qualities by reason of certain conditions of 
climate and soil and skill in packing or preserving. And so it is that 
certain fruit, vegetable, dairy and wine districts are known for the 
superiority of their products. The producers in these districts have 
the right to an honest market, while consumers should have the means 
to identify the foods from such districts should they so desire. 

Correct labeling as to the geographical place of production pre- 
vents imposition in another way. A man can pack cottonseed oil for 
interstate commerce and label it ' olive oil,' but if he is compelled to 
state that the ' olive oil ' is packed in Georgia or Alabama, the public 
becomes suspicious that it is getting cottonseed oil. A ' New Orleans ' 
molasses, packed in one of the glucose districts of Illinois, is open to 
the same suspicion. A can of ' salmon,' packed in Minnesota, is known 
by its place of production to be carp. Between products of the same 
class this law is effective; but between the imitation and the product 
imitated, it is of little avail, for raw materials can be shipped into a 
district famous for its cheese, jelly, syrup, wine or whiskej 7 , and the 
label of the imitation then bears legally the name of that district which 
is in favor with consumers. 

Federal legislation is incomplete. The Hepburn-McCumber-Hey- 
burn Pure Food Bill proposes to complete it. Not by a tax, but by 
a law which will command all the principles of identification to be 
truthfully and fully represented before foods, drugs and liquors are 
allowed shipment from one state into another. Such a law will make 
it possible to follow fraud across the state border and to punish the 
person responsible for the manufacture of an adulterated or misbranded 
product. Such a law will tend to unify state laws, but it will not in- 
terfere with state laws nor will it protect that state which does not 
maintain equal inspection over its own commerce. 

The attitude of the food interests toward pure food legislation is 
either passive or antagonistic. The meat packers represent to con- 
sumers that their meat is 'IT. S. government inspected.' The act of 
1S90, which relates to physiological wholesomeness only, permits them 
to make this representation, although meats, ' U. S. government in- 
spected,' may contain antiseptics, aniline dyes, cheap fillers and any 


other adulteration or misbranding which the packer may find profitable 
after the carcass has passed veterinary inspection. The packers are con- 
sidered to be opposed to a law which will prohibit or make public these 
added adulterations. The butter people have secured all the special 
legislation they desire and of course take little interest in a general food 
law. In fact a general food law may in the end restrict the use of 
artificial color in butter. 

The brewers support the bill. This is brought about by the in- 
fluence of strict regulations in Germany. The wine growers favor the 
bill on account of the advantage which the port inspection gives foreign 
wines over the uninspected American wines. Wines, however, are 
largely distributed through the wholesale liquor dealers. The majority 
of wholesale liquor dealers are also rectifiers. The rectifier, either 
through lack of confidence in his product, or some misunderstanding 
regarding the purpose of the bill, is its strongest opponent. The wines 
of any firm openly supporting the bill are therefore liable to be dis- 
criminated against. 

Some manufacturers of catsups and other condiments fear that 
the law will prohibit the use of antiseptics. Others announce that 
such articles can be put up without these preservatives. The manu- 
facturers of imitation jams and jellies supported the law at first, be- 
lieving that it would bring about a uniform system of labeling. The 
enforcement of the labeling provision under the state laws, however, is 
now proving that consumers prefer the genuine product. The inde- 
pendent firms which put up pure foods of all kinds are for the bill; 
but such firms are not organized, maintain no lobby, and with several 
aggressive exceptions write few letters to congressmen and do little 
of anything else to offset the influence which the organized interests 
array in opposition. The reasons for using antiseptics, artificial 
colors and flavors and otherwise adulterating foods may be controverted, 
but no one will deny the right of consumers to know it whenever such 
adulterations have been practised. Manufacturing firms realize this 
and they are preparing to meet what they know consumers will demand 
when law compels such labeling. The head of a large association of 
food interests well expressed this in saying : " I have lost sleep for 
several years trying to see some way around the movement, but there 
is only one thing to do and that is to prepare to meet it." The ma- 
jority of the food interests are preparing. Firms which began several 
years ago to so shape their business are ready. Others will be ready, 
but they would like to see such laws postponed for one or two more 
3 r ears. When the expense of making the change is incurred and the 
pure food policy has been inaugurated, business itself will demand 
the enactment of strict inspection laws. 

All practical reform must be financed. Pure food is a sentiment 
until put into practise in the dairy or factory. The practise does not 


continue without profit. The profit is uncertain, often impossible, 
until the laws of the state and of the nation command that every 
article of commerce shall be sold under its own name and upon its 
individual merits. 

In the enforcement of the state laws, in the committee hearings con- 
cerning the proposed national law, the dominant questions have been, 
and, in the event of the passage of the national law, will be, artificial 
colors, antiseptics, standards and labeling. And at the present time 
the adulteration and misbranding of drugs and liquors occupy a promi- 
nent place in the pure food issue. 

Artificial Colors 

In a pinch of aniline dye there is all of the color which a cherry- 
tree can produce in one season. The cherry juice or the cherry jelly 
is refreshing and invigorating, while the aniline dye, whether harmful 
or harmless, is without food value, lifeless and dead. 

Genuine color and flavor are the truest representations of quality 
and purity, and the artificial color or flavor is per se a deception. Even 
in confections when the product purports to be flavored with lemon, 
vanilla, cinnamon, etc., and is not, the artificial color or flavor works 
a fraud. With the aid of color every article of food has been in ap- 
pearance successfully imitated. With artificial color to depend upon, 
there is little need for selecting the best suited feeds and treating and 
culturing cream in such a manner as to produce a delicious butter with 
sufficient natural color. Little attention need be paid to the growing of 
fruit and vegetables uniform in color and quality, or to the treatment 
of the wholesale lot so that it will be uniform when it leaves the process 
of preservation, since no care in production or preservation can produce 
a color which can compete with that added by the aniline dye. 

The manufacturers claim, and it can not be disputed, that the use 
of a harmless color to restore the appearance of a product of otherwise 
good qualities is not concealing inferiority, but makes the material, 
which is standard in all other qualities, pleasing to the eye. But 
where can the line be drawn? Once throw the gate open and the imi- 
tator enters with his saccharin and glucose, starch and waste products 
from the fruit factories and artificial acids to color compounds for the 
market which are often worthless and sometimes harmful. 

Color should no longer be a subject of class discrimination. The 
dairy interests defend its use to improve the quality of cheese and 
butter; the packers, to change the appearance of their oleomargarine; 
the vinegar factories to help them make cider vinegar without apples; 
the French, to protect their industry in coppered peas; and all the 
imitators as their modus operandi in deceiving the public. In each 
and every instance it either deceives as to the quality of the product 
or aids in the sale of that which has no value, or assists the sale of 


some product under the name of another, at, perhaps, double its market 


Antiseptic preservatives are substances to be restricted, if possible, 
prohibited. This is the conclusion reached in all legislation, in the 
reports of scientific commissions appointed by governments to inquire 
into the use of antiseptics in foods, and by the large majority of ex- 
perts who have studied the effect of the long-continued use of minimum 
quantities upon the human system. 

Those who employ antiseptics to aid in the preservation of foods do 
not defend this use because of wholesomeness, but because of condi- 
tions — honest problems — in the production and sale of soda fountain 
syrups, tomato catsup and similar articles put up ready to serve, and 
which remain open for a week or longer until the contents of the 
package are consumed. And in this defense the reasons come more 
from the market — ' rough handling in shipping,' ' the hot grocery 
shelf,' and ' the careless consumer ' — than from problems in pro- 

The antiseptic is the competitive foe of cleanliness and other 
hygienic practises which should attend throughout the production and 
sale of foods. The antiseptic is often used in foods of otherwise high 
standards, but it is more often found substituted for wholesome prac- 
tises or ingredients. Its use discourages the perfection of healthful 
ways for keeping foods — chilling, sterilizing, ripening, curing and the 
combination of one food substance with another — which have not only 
given us food preservation, but have added delicious and wholesome 
variety to what we live on. 

Some of the state laws specifically prohibit the use of antiseptics 
in foods. Other laws prohibit the addition of ' injurious substances ' 
to food products, and in the enforcement of such provisions, as in 
Pennsylvania, for example, the court holds that such a provision applies 
to the use of a harmful antiseptic even in a minimum quantity. In 
Connecticut and Kentucky, while the law prohibits the addition of 
' injurious substances ' to foods, it also requires the use of any anti- 
septic to be made known to the purchaser or consumer. Under the 
enforcement of this labeling provision Kentucky, for example, has 
meats without boracic acid, milk without formaldehyde, jellies and 
fruit juices without salicylic acid, while some of the manufacturing 
firms are successfully putting up tomato catsup and soda fountain 
syrup without the use of benzoic acid or other antiseptic preservatives. 

In a letter to the Kentucky department a manufacturer of tomato 
soup writes: 

During the season of 1905 and henceforward the use of coal-tar dye and 
benzoate of soda will be entirely discontinued from our product, for we have 
arranged to make it entirely from fresh tomatoes in the height of the packing 


season which will enable us to produce a palatable looking article without the 
color, and relieves us from the necessity of putting away stock and preserving 
it with benzoate of soda to avoid fermentation. 

In a letter from one of the meat packers it is brought out that 
one manufacturer is required to use boracic acid to maintain a com- 
petitive keeping quality with the other manufacturers, if there is no 
law or enforcement of law to prevent or make public the use of anti- 
septics in meats. 

Writing of the experiment with tomato catsup without an anti- 
septic, the manufacturing head of one of the large firms says : 

I believe that within five years, if that long, we could create ideal condi- 
tions in this country, and the consumer could be educated to take better care 
of such goods as are perishable and liable to spoil on his hands if not con- 
sumed within a certain time. Smaller packages would help to a large extent 
in that direction. In fact, there are numerous ways by which eventually we 
may accomplish that which is desirable to be done. 

The head of the market end of the firm, writing about the experi- 
ment later says : 

We are making a strenuous effort to have every variety of our goods abso- 
lutely pure and free from any antiseptic whatever. But you appreciate thor- 
ougly the enormous undertaking this is, and, further, the great interest which 
we have at stake which makes us proceed slowly. Starting several years ago 
with our experiments on tomato catsup, we put out at first five or six thousand 
dozen; the next year we doubled that; the next year we doubled that again; 
this year we are going to put out approximately four hundred thousand dozen 
catsup, which will be absolutely free from any coloring matter or antiseptic. 
With this season's work a success, we will have demonstrated beyond any possi- 
bility of doubt the putting up of catsup without any antiseptic. After that 
you will be free to say to every manufacturer who sells otherwise, ' Look at the 
thousands of dozens of catsup that . . . has on the market which stand the 
test of shipping, of climate, and, afterwards, the hot shelf of the grocery store, 
and still the consumer gets the goods in prime condition and is well satisfied 
with the flavor.' 

Tomato catsup has been claimed to be the most difficult product to 
put out without some antiseptic. 

Added or Otherwise 
The provisions of the food laws and of the proposed National Pure 
Food Law apply principally to adulteration by addition and to adul- 
teration by taking away. There is a third class of adulteration. Foods 
may be unfit for consumption by reason of inferior methods of produc- 
tion or preparation, carelessness in handling, inherent disease, and the 
spoilage to which foods are subject by their very nature. Many 
foods at certain stages of production or preparation are unfit for con- 
sumption — a green peach and new whiskey. Many of the fruits and 
fruit or grain products contain in their composition certain normal 
poisons, poisons which a food law would prohibit being added. It is 


said that in some instances these poisons are not active in the com- 
binations in which nature puts them, but whether active or not active 
when people eat a natural product they know the nature of that which 
they eat, and when a food law requires this product to be put up in its 
best form and to be identified to the consumer, it has gone as far as is 

The opponents of the Hepburn-McCumber-Heyburn Pure Food Bill 
argue that it is unfair, because it prohibits the addition of poisonous 
ingredients, and yet permits a poisonous ingredient when inherent or 
normal in the product. This argument is plainly invented to divert 
attention from the question of honest labeling. It seems at first 
plausible; but its fallacy and purpose are evident upon short analysis. 
The proposed law prohibits directly the sale of animal or vegetable 
substances which are diseased, spoiled, or otherwise unfit for food, and 
the majority of the other provisions of the bill apply indirectly to 
adulterations present without having been added. Adulteration by in- 
ferior methods of production or preparation necessitate the artificial 
colors and flavors, antiseptics and other added substances which the bill 
proposes to regulate. Imperfect natural food bears its own condemna- 
tion in its unpalatable flavor and inferior color, and such a food, 
therefore, must be supplemented and disguised by the added artificial 
before it will sell. When the artificial is added the law operates. 
Foods which possess a natural color and flavor pleasing to consumers 
are the result of the highest arts of production and preparation, and it 
is not for such foods that food control legislation is needed. 

The whiskey rectifier or blender in particular has attacked the word 
' added ' in the following provision: 

If the package containing it (the article of food) or its label shall bear 
any statement, design or device regarding the ingredients or the substance con- 
tained therein, which statement, design or device shall be false or misleading in 
any particular, provided, that an article of food which does not contain any 
added poisonous or deleterious ingredient shall not be deemed to be adulterated 
or misbranded in the following cases. 

No open argument can be put forward against the first part of this 
provision, but from the overwhelming evidence of such misbranding, 
not only in the sale of liquors but in the sale of all foods, it is evident 
that there must be a powerful secret opposition to it. This opposition 
manifests itself in charges of ' government bureaucracy,' ' the tyranny of 
standards,' ' differences of opinion between scientists,' ' the competency 
of the agricultural chemist versus the competency of the physiological 
chemist in determining adulterations,' ' added or otherwise,' ' the con- 
stitution,' ' the enforcement of law by an individual instead of by the 
courts,' as if it were possible under the state and federal constitutions 
to enforce any law in case of dispute by other than the courts. 


Application of the Law to Whiskies 

The pure food issue covers, and should cover, all substances in- 
tended for human consumption, and the fact that any subject covered 
in the issue is difficult and unpleasant is the more reason why it should 
be included. 

Whiskey is ethyl alcohol and natural flavor. Brandy is ethyl 
alcohol and natural flavor. The difference is the difference in flavor. 
The flavor of genuine whiskey comes from the grain, secondary 
products — fusel oil — distilled over with the ethyl alcohol and ripened 
into the flavors of ' rye ' and ' Bourbon ' whiskey. The new whiskey 
with its unripened secondary products is like the green peach, unfit for 
consumption. The quality of the flavor of whiskey depends upon the 
quality of fusel oil and the method and period of aging. The quality 
of the fusel oil depends upon the quality of the grain and water used, 
the preparation of the mash and the methods of heating and distilling. 
The new product is ripened by putting into charred oak barrels and 
storing these barrels in warehouses. These warehouses are under the 
lock of government officials, primarily to see that none of the product 
is taken away until the tax is paid. Whiskies may be taken out of this 
warehouse at once, or they may be permitted to remain for a period 
of eight years before the government collects the tax and ceases its 
control. Most of the whiskey, however, is tax-paid and removed 
from bond before it is three years old. The rectifier or blender claims 
that he has a process for producing palatable whiskey without the ex- 
pense and delay of the barrel-aging process. The rectifier, however, 
colors, beads and labels his product in imitation of the aged whiskey. 
If the process has the merit which is claimed for it, there should be 
no injustice and all advantage in a law requiring rectified whiskey to be 
labeled for what it is. 

When the tax is paid on distilled spirits the government puts a 
stamp on the product to show this fact. Formerly these stamps were 
only put on barrels. Consumers do not buy the product by the barrel, 
and so in 1896, following the investigation of the whiskey trust and 
the adulteration of whiskies, congress passed an act permitting a tax- 
paid certificate stamp to be put over the corks of bottles. Whiskey to 
be so bottled must have remained in the bonded warehouse at least four 
years, and must be bottled without the addition of any substance except 
distilled water to reduce it to one hundred proof. This law is optional. 
The four-year period of aging which it requires should be made com- 
pulsory for all whiskey. 

Xo such supervision is exercised, on the contrary, over the business 
or product of rectifying. In fact, the rectifier or blender holds a gov- 
ernment license to e spuriously imitate ' as he pleases, and a law is 
needed to restrain the adulteration which it is possible to practise. 
The natural flavor in genuine whiskey and the government tax are the 


dominant costs in production. The rectifier seeks to lessen these costs 
by expansion, or by the addition of artificial essences to neutral spirits 
to make a product which will taste and appear like genuine whiskey. 
Sometimes more or less genuine whiskey is mixed with this neutral 
spirit to help the flavor, and when such is the case, and when the flavors 
and other imitations added are harmless, the product has all the rights 
of the market provided it is labeled for what it is. 

JSTew genuine whiskey is often taken from bond before it is suf- 
ficiently aged and syrups are added to make it palatable. Green 
whiskey is unfit for consumption, and this practise should be pro- 
hibited. In one class of rectified whiskey the mixer not only seeks 
to avoid the cost of producing the natural flavor, but also to reduce 
the tax cost of the ethyl alcohol by incorporating some one of the non- 
taxed intoxicants, like wood alcohol. There are no statistics to show 
to just what extent this practise is carried on. It is such stuff as this 
which is sold in the ' dives ' of cities and the ' blind tigers ' of prohibi- 
tion districts, and its crazing effect upon human beings is a matter of 
common knowledge. 

The people who do not drink alcoholic beverages know little and 
care less about the composition and labeling of these products. " They 
are all bad because they contain ethyl alcohol, and there can be little 
difference between the adulterated and the pure." Some of the pro- 
hibitionists even fear that the investigation might help to ' legalize 
part of the traffic' But it would seem wiser to insist that the search- 
light of chemistry and the law of the honest label shall be applied to 
all substances intended for human consumption, whether foods, drugs 
or liquors. And such a control for alcoholic beverages is the beginning 
of a far-reaching reform. Some things are worthy of the sentiment 
of state rights. The adulteration of alcoholic beverages is not one 
of them. 


All agree on the general principles of pure food legislation, but a 
controversy arises when it is proposed to apply these principles to the 
sale of some special product. The name and describing terms given 
to or incorporated in the label of an article of food or drink have much 
to do with the price and supposed food value of the article so named or 
labeled. The imitation, where law does not prevent it, goes into the 
market under the name and trade terms of the product imitated, and 
is so mingled in the market with the general food that it is impossible 
for consumers to distinguish between the two. 

It is the purpose of standards to determine and establish the normal 
constituents of each food substance and to so a,pply and restrict names 
and describing terms that consumers can at once identify the imitation 
from the genuine or the inferior from the superior. The interests 


which produce the genuine want this principle established ; the interests 
which make the imitation do not. 

The purpose of standards embraces the principle of uniform weights 
and measures. The law of weights and measures determines what 
shall constitute a pound or a gallon, and requires that when a pound 
or a gallon is contracted for the substance delivered shall weigh or 
measure according to the contract. The law of standards would re- 
quire that a pound of butter and a gallon of honey shall be such, with 
all the qualities of good butter and good honey. This standard prin- 
ciple is well established at common law, but the statute and commis- 
sion are necessary to put it into continuous effect. The impression has 
been created that it is the purpose of food standards to arbitrarily de- 
termine what people shall or shall not eat, when, the fact is, the pur- 
pose is not to prohibit but to identify. Food standards will prevent the 
arbitrary imposition upon consumers which dishonest labeling permits. 

For protecting consumers and to meet the ends of justice in the 
enforcement of food laws it is not only needed to know what this man 
or that man or these two men consider the qualities of a pure product, 
but also, what the collaborated evidence from all of the scientists and 
of all practical experience establish these qualities and the correct 
method for determining them to be. This collaborated result is the 
standard, and is, from its very nature, a protection against error. 

The legal status of scientific commissions appointed by the state 
and national governments to determine certain facts in order to in- 
telligently enforce laws becomes an important question when the find- 
ings of such commissions affect large interests. In the enforcement 
of police regulations against ignorant offenders, and in matters of 
undisputed public importance or danger the rulings of executives and 
the findings of government scientists have been given the warrant of 
law without dispute. But in settling a question which concerns estab- 
lished business, the authority for the appointment and the powers of 
the commission to investigate such questions become a matter of great 
importance. Such a commission exercises, in the consideration and 
determination of technical matters, the combined functions of the legis- 
lative, executive and judiciary up to the point of putting its findings 
into effect. Its findings may go into effect by the mutual assent of the 
interests affected, as is, with but few exceptions, the case where the 
finding is correct. But if disputed, the finding can not go into effect 
with the warrant of law, except under the rules and as the weight of 

In his great speech on the constitutional right of congress to pass 
legislation limiting the power of the inferior federal courts to grant 
injunctions against the decisions of a railroad rate commission, until 
after full review, Senator Bailey says in defense of giving such a 
commission of experts the fullest powers possible: 


I do not believe that this legislation will lead to the end which some men 
fear. I believe that the ultimate effect will be to promote a better understand- 
ing among the railroads and the people. I believe that when it is made the 
railroads do the people justice, the people will feel less resentful toward the 
railroads ; and we will deal with these questions with more of reason and less 
of passion. It will take the railroads out of politics and we will hear no more 
about railroad senators. I want to see every corporation driven out of politics. 1 

In opposing the pure food bill the senator says : 

Thus it is that bureau after bureau is built up and we vest them with such 
extraordinary power, until the American people will become a bureaucracy in- 
stead of a democracy — a government in which the bureaus and not the people rule. 

If the federal government has the power to pass an act regulating the use 
of adulterated, misbranded and imitation foods, it ought to stop when it writes 
upon the statute books that it will be a crime to commit such a commodity for 
shipment between the States and the foreign nations, and leave it to the integrity 
and efficiency of its judicial officers to vindicate the authority of its law. 2 

Why should not the senator's argument in favor of the rate com- 
mission also apply to the food commission? Why should not also the 
liquor corporation, the drug corporation and the packing corporation 
be ' driven out of politics ' ? Why should rate experts, with extraor- 
dinary powers, be trusted to make ' the railroads do the people justice,' 
and food experts, with no limitation upon the courts, be expected to 
build up a bureaucracy antagonistic to the people's interests? 

But, aside from these questions and the ' efficiency and integrity ' 
of the judicial officers, the district attorneys and federal judges can 
not enforce a pure food law without facts and these facts can only 
be secured through a ' bureau ' or staff of trained chemists, working 
in well-equipped laboratories under methods of analysis which have 
been established beyond doubt to be correct. There may be some oc- 
casion to fear that errors will be made in securing this evidence. There 
is greater occasion to fear that the investigation will make public the 
deficiencies and adulterations which some interests know to exist in 
their misbranded products. 

The pure food issue is not altogether an issue of ' fraud ' and 
' poison,' but it is more largely a question of scientific and business 
problems — problems attending the preservation, packing and distribu- 
tion of what the people live on; problems which the colleges and 
universities have too long left out of their courses, and problems which 
the experiment stations and government departments have too long 
neglected to study in connection with the production of the fruits, 
grains and other products from which foods are made. 

1 Before TJ. S. Senate, April 10, 1906, Congressional Record, April 13. 

2 Before U. S. Senate, February 21, 1906, Congressional Record, February 21. 




/~\WING to the demand of the uneducated mind for any kind of a 
^S crude guess rather than an acknowledgment of ignorance, strange 
stories often spring up around natural phenomena, attributing, in most 
absurd ways, effects to causes which have no more connection than the 
barnacles and geese of Gerarde. Especially is this true of the savage 
who deifies everything beyond his knowledge and attributes to it influ- 
ences for good or evil to himself, according to his first impressions of 
them. Such stories often find credence in the minds of more enlight- 
ened people upon the plea that ' the Indian lives so close to nature that 
he can not be far wrong in his estimate of natural phenomena.' These 
believers in the infallibility of the ' untutored races ' fail to remember 
that the most superstitious person on earth is he who reads nature, as 
does the savage, only by the awe-inspiring phenomena that have forced 
themselves upon his attention most strongly by some accident, without 
any reference whatever to cause and effect. Cases in point might be 
cited from every stage in the life of native races, but the following will 
serve as an example, and at the same time may clear up in the minds 
of some as to what is the cause of the peculiar growths known as 
' wooden roses ' or ' wooden flowers,' they having frequently been de- 
scribed to the writer by different botanists as ' fungi,' ' galls,' ' knots,' 
' disease swellings,' etc. 

Volcanoes have ever been looked upon with fear by native races and 
the crater shunned as the doorway to the 'infernal regions.' Agua, 
in Guatemala, had, however, been inactive for so long that when pe- 
culiar forms of plant life, known nowhere else in the region, were 
found near its summit, they were supposed in some way to be connected 
through the extinct, though still feared crater, with the regions of fire 
beneath. They were, therefore, called by the euphonious title of ' roses 
of hell,' because they were believed to be the only flowers that grew in 
the 'lower world' and, having escaped through the crater from that 
region, were supposed to exist nowhere in the world except upon the 
upper portion of the sloping sides of this volcano. 

Because of their supposed origin, these ' flowers ' were feared as 
having great power for evil. They were supposed to be more poisonous 
than anything upon earth, and any person coming within the influence 
of their inodorous, though not unbeautiful, ' petals ' was marked for 
sure destruction. 

VOL. LXIX. — 5. 



Though Agua had been quiescent for centuries and its rampages 
were known only by the dim recitation of Indian tradition, still that 
tradition was strong enough in the hearts of the natives to cause them 
to warn the Spaniards who came to that country in 1524 that unless 
they shunned the influences of this ' flower ' they would surely be slain 
by the volcano, whose long quiescent throat had permitted the ' roses ' 
to see the light of day as a warning to human beings that, though he 
slept, he was by no means dead, and if aroused the Indians would suffer 
as well as the white man. Despite this warning, the Spaniards called 
their council under the shade of one of the very trees which bore these 
' flowers,' and there decided to found the city of Antigua which was to 
be the capitol of the new state of Guatemala. Everything flourished 
in the new city until 1541, when Agua suddenly burst forth in terrific 
defense of his invaded sovereignty, deluging the beautiful valley with 
fifty million cubic yards of water and mud, completely burying the city 
from view and warning the people to no longer trespass upon the evil 
ground. The warning was again unheeded, the city rebuilt upon the 
old site and apparent prosperity experienced until 1773, when it was 
shaken to ruins by the great earthquake. The capitol was then re- 
moved to the new town of Guatemala, beyond the influences of the 
fateful ' flower ' and has therefore never been molested since. This 


^oa- 9 1 /w^L ESr Mr 'rm^^ 


Fig. 1. A Branch of Citrus medica, showing the cup-like, delicately carved 'petals 

of the ' wooden flowers.' 



Fig. 2. A Branch of Citrus medica, showing the parasitic Lorenthus Ladebeckii (Engl.) in 
situ, taken in front of a mirror so as to show both sides of the same specimen. The right-hand 
view also shows one of the cup-like ' flowers,' from which a plant of L. Ladebeckii has fallen. 
This photograph was kindly made for the writer by Dr. Voigt, of the Botanical Museum of 

vindication and fulfilment of the natives' warning has fastened the 
tradition unalterably upon their beliefs, and no amount of enlighten- 
ment ever shakes their confidence in the direful results that will follow 
the too close inspection of these terrible ' roses of hell.' 

This peculiar botanical formation, though strange in its gigantic 
size, is easily explained when the specimens are carefully examined. 
An examination of a number of them by the writer showed them to 
have a ' stem ' of wood, upon the end of which was the enlargement or 
' flower.' The outer or convex side of the enlargement is covered with 
a continuation of the bark of the ' stem,' the bark ending at the outer 
edge of the ' petals.' The concave or inside of the ' flower ' is delicately 
creased like the veins of a petal, running from the center to the 
periphery, as shown by the photographs. Many of the flowers showed 
decided indentations in the periphery, as if divided roughly into four- 
parted ' corollas,' and varying from eighteen to twenty inches in diam- 
eter down to minute growths. They might, therefore, easily be mis- 
taken for flowers by those who can not reason from effect back to cause. 

The real cause of these peculiar growths is found in the biological 
law that every organism will protect itself against outside intrusion if 
it can. Thus when any foreign substance, whether living or inert, 
enters the living organism, the intrusions are resented by the organism, 
which tries to protect itself by either assimilating the intruder, ejecting 
it, or by building up a barrier around it. Thus when the seeds of the 
parasitic order Lorentheacea? adhere to the bark of a tree by the gelat- 
inous coating which surrounds them and there germinate, sending 



their parasitic roots down through the sap wood of the host to procure 
their nourishment, the host, not being able to eject them entirety, forms 
a ball-like excrescence around the juncture of the two plants by the 
irritable hypertrophy of the tissues thus caused in the host. If the 
invading plant be pulled out of the growth thus formed, a delicately 
carved socket will be seen, very much like that of these ' wooden 

flowers," but upon a smaller scale. 
Thus such a ' flower,' though 
small and usually upon a large 
limb, is formed whenever a mistle- 
toe grows upon an oak. 

These large ' wooden roses ' are, 
therefore, nothing more than the 
protective hypertrophied tissue 
formed by the branches of some 
host tree when attacked by a para- 
site, which in this case is a gigan- 
tic species of mistletoe, Lorentlius 
Ladebeckii (Engl.), growing upon 
any one of several host trees, the 
principal ones being Citrus medico, 
and several species of conifers. 
The Ladebeclxii flourishes in iso- 
lated zones throughout the western 
coast of the American continent 
from northern Mexico to Terra del 
Fuego, but has never been authen- 
tically reported from any other 
part of the globe. 
The one remarkable thing which attracts attention to these growths 
and causes them to be mistaken for flowers is the great proportions 
attained by them. The ' stem,' which of course is a limb of the host 
plant, rarely exceeds an inch and a half in diameter, the parasite evi- 
dently not being able to attack other than the younger and more vigor- 
ously growing shoots. As long as these can supply the nourishment 
for the Ladebeckii, it grows, the excrescence upon the citrus becoming 
larger and larger until the distal portion of the branch dies, leaving 
the small inner portion of the branch supporting a large ball from 
which grows the parasite. At the end of a few years, say four to seven, 
sufficient nourishment can no longer reach the parasite, either because 
the small supporting branch can no longer carry it, or the protective 
excrescence has shut it off from the intruder, which therefore drops 
out, leaving the open, delicately carved formation, which so resembles 
' wooden flowers ' as to give rise to the remarkable legend above re- 

Fig. 3. A Branch of Pinvs, showing 'he 'wooden 
flowers ' roughly divided into four petals. 





CJINCE the San Francisco earthquake, the reading and scientific 
^ public has become acquainted with the fact, if not already known, 
that the recent disaster was the result, not of volcanic activity, but of 
the activity of the ordinary mountain-making forces. In a large 
measure they have become acquainted with the further facts that 
mountain-making forces have long been, and still are, active in the 
immediate region about San Francisco; that as a result of these ac- 
tivities the rocks of the regions are folded and faulted; that the 
faulting is of major importance ; that the recent disturbance is ascribed 
by the geologists to movements of adjustment along one or more of 
these fault planes; that investigation after the earthquake along some 
of these lines gave abundant evidence of differential movement visibly 
affecting the surface. 

These facts, now widely known, start questions along several lines 
of inquiry. One of these lines, having an important bearing on the 
probabilities of future trouble, involves the geologic evidence as to the 
recency of the observed earth movements; the relative value of this 
last displacement as compared with past displacements, both remote 
and near; the character and amount of geologically recent movements; 
in short, as given in this paper, a resume of the recent geologic history 
of the San Francisco peninsula and the observed evidence upon which 
the statement of that history is based. 

As our interest increases with the recency of the events the earlier 
history will be passed over rapidly and increasing attention given to 
the later events. 

California in Mesozoic time was the theater of profound geologic 
activitv — the movements of subsidence, the vast volume of sedimenta- 
tion, the intrusion of great sheets of igneous rocks, and the final fold- 
ing, crushing and faulting were possibly not exceeded anywhere in 
the world during that period. In Tertiary time the same notable 
activity continued. The last expression of that activity in the im- 
mediate neighborhood of San Francisco consisted of a subsidence be- 
ginning apparently just at or before the end of Miocene time and 
continuing probably a little over into the Quaternary. Coincident with 
this subsidence was sedimentation that locally resulted in the laying 
down of over 4,700 feet of sediments. A remnant of these deposits, 
known as the Merced series, stretches from the city limits of San 



Francisco southward along the coast for -i miles, beautifully exposed 
in bare cliffs 700 feet high. A study of the geology shows that 
this fragment lies between two fault planes, beyond which no trace 
of it is found for many miles. Calculation shows that on either 
side of this depressed block there has been elevation during Quater- 
nary time of about 1% miles with pari passu removal of the Merced 
series and deep erosion of the underlying basement. The time interval 
is best measured by the erosion of the mile of Merced sediments. As 
exposed to-day upturned along Seven-mile Beach, these consist mainly 


Pescadero Pt 

Fig. 1. Sketch Map of Northern Part of San Francisco Peninsula, showing position 
of the three faults to which the discussion in this paper is confined. 

of half consolidated sands, clays and hard conglomerates, ringing under 
the hammer. To have removed such a volume of rock would appear 
to have required most of Quaternary time, especially as the underlying 
hard pre-Tertiary sandstones, serpentines and cherts were also deeply 
eroded. During this movement there were volcanic outpourings of 
some extent. There also appear to have been interruptions to the 
movement which do not affect the main problem now, and will be 
passed by. The final result probably left the whole region about San 
Francisco dry land, except for the water courses. Sand dunes and 
wash deposits abounded then as to-day. The Monterey cypress and 
Douglass spruce grew abundantly near San Francisco, some of the 
latter reaching a diameter of four feet, or more. The mammoth or 
mastodon roamed the peninsula at that time. 




Seven Mile Beach 

*jo«»> C,\o* 

Mu»el Rock. 



Fig. 2. Section of Seven-mile Beach and Beyond; from mouth of Lake Merced, show- 
ing position and exposure of Merced series of rocks. This remnant of this series lies between 
the San Bruno fault plane at the north and the San Andreas fault at the south. Its entire ab- 
sence from the San Bruno Mountains to the north and Mount Montana to the south is part of 
the basis for the theory that since its deposition there has been uplift along the two faults 
which lifted the terrritory outside of these faults nearly or quite a mile and one half above sea- 
level, and that erosion, not only planed down the folded rocks of this block, but entirely 
removed the Merced rocks either side of this block. 

San Bruno 
, fault 

xa»-'i I La ke. 
,' 1 Ml treed 




Fig. 3. Figure showing Position of Recent Marine Deposits above Seven-mile Beach 
and the relative movement along the two fault planes. 

Since then two events are clearly shown in the records; these are 
subsidence and differential uplifts. The subsidence carried most, if 
not all, of the San Francisco peninsula below its present elevation, 
flooding the valleys and leaving the hills of the city largely an archi- 
pelago. Marine deposits were laid down on top of the clearly recog- 
nizable sand dunes and wash deposits, containing in many places 
the trees mentioned above. Following that came local uplift, raising 
these marine deposits to elevations of over 700 feet above sea-level just 

^-ji.Piji"* * *^ *"• >. afX^ 1 -S\ .1 v> A ■'ate. 

^>: :*• ^HC '^v -'^44^"'^ 

Fig. 4. Mussel Rock from the South, showing marine Pleistocene (o) overlying sand dunes 

(c) and igneous rocks (b). 

7 2 


a>-^ -.its *..'.»>- ■z*7V- .». 

H'ig. 5. Raised Beach near Lubetus, Quaternary overlying Merced Strata. 

about San Francisco, and double that farther down the coast. These last 
movements were differential, and it is quite possible that in some cases 
the two took place together. In the same way, it is quite possible that 
while in parts of the area the evidence suggests elevation continuing 
at present, elsewhere subsidence is in progress, though not so evident. 
The point of special interest in this connection is the fact that this 
differential movement about San Francisco is clearly a movement of the 
fault blocks and reveals slipping along these planes of faulting of 
hundreds of feet in times so recent as to suggest that much of it may 
have taken place since the human occupation. 

Considering first the evidence of movement, a good example is 
furnished by the San Andreas fault, where it reaches the ocean at 
Mussel Rock. At the foot of the parallel San Bruno fault a few miles 
to the northeast the recent marine deposits are about at sea-level. 
Coming south along the sea-cliff or southwest, these deposits are clearly 
seen rising, making distinct benches in the little stream valleys where 
they overlie the wind and wash deposits of the preceding stage, these 
wash deposits in places being full of half exposed spruce logs, which the 
neighboring inhabitants use for firewood. Before the San Andreas 
fault is reached, these deposits have risen to over 700 feet above sea- 
level, lying on the truncated upturned edges of the Merced strata. As 
soon as the trace of the San Andreas fault has been crossed, the top 
of these sediments is found at only 220 feet above sea-level, whence 
it descends until within a short distance it reaches the level of the 
beach. Here is therefore clear evidence of movement along the fault 
plane of several hundred feet since this last submergence. The ques- 
tion of most interest then becomes: How recent was this last uplift? 


Farther south on the ocean side of the San Francisco peninsula the 
coast is fringed with a raised beach, such as occur so abundantly along 
much of the California coast. The top of this beach is 75 to 100 
Ei ct above sea-level. At Purisima, the creek of that name runs out 
across this raised beach through a slightly cut channel to the very 
edge of the plane where it drops as a water-fall directly into the surf. 
As the rocks through which it would have to cut to reach sea-level are 
the only partly consolidated Merced series, there is striking evidence 
of the recency of the raising of the beach. Again just south of San 
Francisco are many places in which the recently raised deposits and in 
slighter degree the underlying Merced rocks have been trenched to 
depths of as much as 75 feet since the production of the Coast and 
Geodetic Survey map of this region in 18G9. The fact that so large a 
part of these recent deposits still remains in view of this rapid erosion 
impresses one in the field most profoundly. 

There is another line of evidence to which the writer refers with 
some hesitation. Indian shell mounds abound along the California 
coast. In many cases these now occur spread out in thin sheets, ap- 
parently forming the surface layer of the raised beaches over such large 
areas that in his first study of them he was deceived and considered 
them in many cases as marine deposits. As he remembers them now, 
he can not help thinking that in many cases they have been reworked 
by water before the final uplift. In one case 'the writer found an 
Indian skeleton, evidently formally buried, half exposed in the side of 
a stream channel so narrow as to force one to the conclusion that the 
channel has been entirely cut since the burial of the body. This is 
only a fraction of the evidence that in the field leads one to consider 
this last uplift as a thing of yesterday, and in all probability of to-day 
also, or, in other words, that these differential uplifts are still in 

A final question of maximum interest is : Is there physiographic or 

Fig. 6. A Portion of the U. S. Geological Survey Map from Mussel Rock southeast- 
ward nearly to San Andreas Lake, showing topographic environment of a chain of ponds and 
undrained basins believed to be due to recent earthquake movements. 


other evidence that there has been sudden slipping along these fault 
lines in very recent years, comparable in importance with movements 
of two months ago, especially as expressed in fault scarps ? According 
to the preliminary report of the earthquake committee, the rupture of 
April 18 shows a horizontal displacement averaging 10 feet, and a 
vertical displacement not to exceed four feet. How long such a sur- 
face disturbance can be subsequently recognized is a question. The 
San Andreas fault belt is well situated for the noting of any such dis- 
placement for several miles southeast of Mussel rock, in many cases 
the actual fault planes emerging in sublevel pasture land at the sur- 
face. Neither the writer's notes nor his memory now yield any evi- 
dence of such a scarp. On the other hand, the fact that where such 
evidence might be seen has long been subject to the tramping of cattle 
renders its absence of less value. In this connection he does not give 
any value to a small scarp noted just back of Mussel Rock. At the 
time, it was considered to be a land slip. A photograph taken of it 
suggests the possibility of its having a deeper meaning. 

But if such scarps are lacking, there is abundant evidence of another 
kind bearing on this subject. I have spoken of the San Andreas fault 
belt. Such it appears to be rather than a single clearly-defined break. 
Along this belt between San Andreas lake and where the belt meets the 
ocean at Mussel Rock is a string of drainless depressions occupied with 
water part or all of the year. In one or two cases these can be clearly 
seen to lie directly in one of the lines of faulting. That they are the 
result of fault movements seems highly probable. When were they 
made? That they were made within the last few centuries can not be 
asserted, yet the fact that so many of these shallow basins still exist, 
neither filled nor drained, notwithstanding that in many cases it is but 
a stone's throw to the head of a drain with a high gradient, suggests 
such a possibility. The possible cause of these basins is suggested in 
what appears to have formerly been one, now trenched from two direc- 
tions at the head of Wood's Gulch, a small ravine cutting the cliffs 
of Seven Mile beach, a mile north of Mussel Rock. The ravine follows 
a fault with downthrow of 800 feet. At the head a cirque-like cut 
exposed an overhanging fault scarp of 100 feet or more. Against this 
face there appears to have gradually filled in wash from the adjacent 
hills, wind-blown sands and detached fragments from the fault face, 
until the whole thing was buried and later covered with the marine 
deposits of the last submergence. Judged from what is left of this 
filling, it must at one time have strongly resembled the undrained 
basins just described. The evidence suggests that this fault scarp 
was produced by a single movement. An elephas tusk found about 

75 feet from the top of the filled in deposit agrees with the other evi- 
dence in placing the time of this movement back to the land period 
preceding the recent submergence. 


Summing up, the evidence seems to warrant the following state- 
men t s : 

1. Since the beginning of Quaternary time there have been dif- 
ferential movements of uplift along fault planes on the San Fran- 
cisco peninsula amounting in several cases to nearly or quite a mile 
and one half. 

2. That these movements have been followed by subsidence and 
subsequent uplifts, involving sliding of several hundred feet along the 
older fault planes. 

3. That these last movements are geologically of extremely recent 
date, that possibly a considerable part of these movements have come 
since the occupation by the Indians, and probably have continued to 
the present. 

4. That some of the movements along the fault planes, geologically, 
in fairly recent times, seem to have produced more striking physio- 
graphic results than any produced the past spring. 

5. That while the recent movement may have relieved the stress 
which the rocks were under to such an extent that it will be many years, 
or possibly centuries, before another such a disturbance will take place, 
on the other hand, a comparison of the few feet of motion in April 
with the hundreds of feet of movement that have taken place in very 
recent time suggests that fault adjustments of equal or greater violence 
are liable to occur at any time in the future. And since similar condi- 
tions are known to occur all over the Pacific Coast region, no place in 
that whole district can claim immunity. 





T3R0BABLY few people are aware that the greatest earthquake our 
-*- country has experienced since its settlement was not the de- 
structive shock at Charleston in 1886, or even the recent terrifying 
manifestation at San Francisco, but was, on the contrary, the now 
almost forgotten earthquake of New Madrid, the first tremors of which 
took place on the sixteenth of December, 1811. Strange is that trait 
of human nature by which even the most appalling of nature's mani- 
festations slip rapidly from the memory, so that only a hundred years 
later little but tradition remains of the earthquake which changed the 
configuration of extensive areas of the Mississippi Valley, raising some 
portions, depressing others, shifting the course of streams, draining 
old swamps at one point and forming new lakes at others. All this 
and more, however, took place during the successive vibrations which 
shook the New Madrid region almost continuously for a period of 
many months in 1811 and 1812. 

The Neiv Madrid Earthquake 

The night of December 15, 1811, fell quiet and peaceful, and the 
settlers retired little dreaming of the impending catastrophe. At two 
o'clock in the morning, however, they suddenly awoke to find the 
houses over their heads groaning and cracking, chimneys falling, furni- 
ture thrown about, and the earth rocking and trembling. Groping 
tbeir way to the open fields they huddled together until morning, the 
shock which succeeded shock at short intervals in the darkness keeping 
them from returning to their tottering houses. At New Madrid, on 
the Mississippi, the French population were dancing away the night 
when the shock came and instantly terminated the revelings, joy being 
replaced by terror as they rushed from the buildings to the open, where 
catholics and protestants alike knelt in supplication during the remain- 
ing hours of the night. 

Daylight brought little relief. At seven a rumbling like distant 
thunder was heard and in an instant the earth was convulsed so that 
no one could stand. Looking at the ground the terrified people saw it 
rise and fall, as earth waves, like those upon the sea, rushed past, wa- 
ving the trees until their branches interlocked and causing yawning 

1 Published by permission of the director of the United States Geological 


cracks to open where the surface was bent and the swells hurst. Giants 
of the forest were split for forty feet up the stump, half standing on 
one side of the fissure and the remainder on the other. In one instance 
;i crack opened in a cellar, swallowing a large number of castings just 
received from Pittsburg and temporarily stored away there. 

Some of the earthquake rents were of great size, having widths of 
thirty feet or more, while some are reported as many as five miles 
in length. Others were circular in form, making basin-like de- 
pressions up to several hundred feet in diameter. Into some of 
these cracks rushed the waters from swamps and bayous, while else- 
where small streams or even rivers left their old beds and made 
new channels through the cracks. In one instance, a settler living 
on a neck of land lying within a great bend or ox-bow started at 
daybreak the morning after the quake to go to his well which the 
night before had been in his yard. But no well was there ! Instead 
the river was at his door. Glancing across the water, however, the well 
could be seen on the further side. During the night a crack had been 
formed between the house and the w T ell and had been taken possession 
of by the waters, leaving both unharmed though on opposite sides of 
the stream. 

Accompanying the cracking in many instances there seemed, accord- 
ing to one observer, " a blowing out of the earth, bringing up coal, 
wood, sand, etc., accompanied with a roaring and whistling produced by 
the impetuosity of the air escaping from the confinement . . . trees 
being blown up, cracked and split, and falling by thousands at a time. 
The surface settled and a black liquid rose to the belly of the horses." 
The atmosphere was saturated with ' sulphurous vapor,' due to the 
gases escaping from the decaying vegetation and coaly matter (lignite) 
deep below the surface in the deposits of the prehistoric Mississippi. 
These gases tainted the air for miles and so affected the streams and 
rivers that the waters, even to a distance of one hundred and fifty miles 
below, could not be used for several days. The intense darkness caused 
by these vapors in the night, and the murky purplish tinge imparted to 
the atmosphere by day, produced a vivid and never to be forgotten im- 
pression on every one who passed through the experience. 

It was along the Mississippi that the destruction reached a maxi- 
mum. A traveler on a flatboat, tied up to the bank about forty miles 
below Xew Madrid, speaking of the first shock, says that the men, 
wakened by the quake, sprang to the deck thinking the Indians had 
made an attack. After daylight, as they were preparing to depart, 
" a loud roaring was heard, sounding like steam escaping from a boiler. 
This was accompanied by a violent agitation of the shores and tre- 
mendous boiling up of the waters in huge swells which tossed the 
boats so violently that the men with difficulty could keep upon their 
feet. The sandbars and points of islands gave way, swallowed up in 


the tumultuous bosom of the river, carrying down with them the 
eottonwood trees cracking and crashing, tossing their arms to and 
fro, as if sensible of their danger, while they disappeared beneath the 
flood. From the check given to the current by the heaving bottom, the 
river rose in a few minutes five or six feet and again rushed forward 
with redoubled impetuosity, hurrying along the boats, now let loose by 
the horror-stricken boatmen, as in less clanger on the water than on the 

Whole islands disappeared. Captain Sarpy of St. Louis, with bis 
family and considerable money aboard, tied up at an island on the 
evening of the fifteenth of December, 1811. In looking around they 
found that a party of river pirates occupied part of the island and were 
expecting Sarpy with the intention of robbing him. As soon as the 
latter found that out he quietly dropped lower down the river. In the 
night the earthquake came, and next morning when the accompanying 
haziness disappeared, the island could no longer be seen ; it had been 
utterly destroyed as well as its pirate inhabitants. 

Few scientists were in the region during the period of shocks, but 
we are fortunate in having handed down to us a realistic picture from 
the pen of the great naturalist Audubon. 

Traveling through the Barrens of Kentucky (of which I shall give you an 
account elsewhere) in the month of November, I was jogging on one afternoon, 
when I remarked a sudden and strange darkness rising from the western horizon. 
Accustomed to our heavy storms of thunder and rain, I took no notice of it, 
as I thought the speed of my horse might enable me to get under shelter of the 
roof of an acquaintance, who lived not far distant, before it should come up. 
I had proceeded about a mile, when I heard what I imagined to be the distant 
rumbling of a violent tornado, on which I spurred my steed, with a wish to 
gallop as fast as possible to a place of shelter; but it would not do, the animal 
krew better than I what was forthcoming, and instead of going faster, so nearly 
stopped that I remarked he placed one foot after another on the ground, with 
as much precaution as if walking on a smooth sheet of ice. I thought he had 
suddenly foundered, and, speaking to him, was on the point of dismounting and 
leading him, when he all of a sudden fell a-groaning piteously, hung his head, 
spread out his four legs as if to save himself from falling, and stood stock still, 
continuing to groan. I thought my horse was about to die, and would have 
sprung from his back had a minute more elapsed, but at that instant all the 
shrubs and trees began to move from their very roots, the ground rose and fell 
in successive furrows, like the ruffled waters of a lake, and I became bewildered 
in my ideas, as I too plainly discovered that all this awful commotion in 
nature was the result of an earthquake. 

The vibrations did not cease for over a year from December six- 
teenth, the date memorable for the first shock. During the succeeding 
three months 1,874 shocks were recorded, of which eight were violently 
destructive, ten very severe and thirty-five generally alarming. In 
fact, this earthquake is famous all over the world as one of the few 
instances of almost incessant shaking for a period of many months in 
a region remote from the seat of any volcanic action. 


Some, like the first, were accompanied by disruptions of the surface 
and by changes in elevation of the ground. The country which before 
the shocks was level, with occasional small prairies, was sadly changed. 
In places old bayou-lakes were drained so that corn could be planted in 
their bottoms, while elsewhere lakes of considerable size were created. 
The surface for hundreds of acres was covered by the sand thrown 
up with the water from the fissures. Even to this day this can be 
recognized in the forest, where it occurs as barren spots upon which 
little will grow. 

A few more years and a century will have passed since the shocks 
so vividly described took place. From a wilderness with a few scat- 
tered settlements, the region has become, in the northern part at least. 
a populous farming region with numerous prosperous towns. The 
great city of Memphis has appeared near the limits of the earthquake 
region at the south, while St. Louis with its hundreds of thousands 
of people is but a little distance outside the area to the north. 

Notwithstanding the development of the region and modification of 
the surface by nearly a hundred years of cultivation, the watchful eye 
can still detect evidences of the powerful forces which so strongly 
affected the area in 1811. Throughout all the country from New 
Madrid in Missouri southward to beyond the Arkansas line, and from 
the Mississippi river westward to the highlands of Crowleys Ridge, 
there is hardly an open field which does not show one or more low 
swells of light sand standing out in marked contrast with the dark 
soil constituting the ordinary surface. These are the well-known ' sand 
blows ' produced by the actual eruptions of sand and water from 
considerable depths through cracks in the clayey surface deposits. 

Some of the cracks were of considerable length, giving rise to the 
long narrow ' sand blows/ while others were very short, almost all the 
water and sand coming from a single point. In such instances little 
cones or craterlets, as they are called, consisting of low mounds of sand 
with depressions in the center were often formed. 

Even more conspicuous, though less numerous, are the great cracks 
formed in the earth at the time of the quake. Few people have 
seen these in their full development, as they are hidden in tangles of 
vines in the as yet almost untouched hardwood forests on the bottoms 
of northeastern Arkansas. Turning northward from the lumber town 
of Parkin about thirty miles due west of Memphis and following 
the old ' De Soto trail/ in a few hours one reaches the southern portion 
of the earthquake area and is in the midst of earthquake features of 
surprising magnitude. The region is low and is frequently submerged 
for weeks in the spring by backwater from the sluggish rivers, while 
in summer the cane brakes in the more open spots and the thickets 
of poison ivy and other vines in the forests present additional obstacles 
to the explorer. Wild turkeys, deer, wild cats and even wolves are still 



1. One Side of Earthquake Crack in New Madrid Region, showing scarp 4 feet in height. 

(Photo by Fuller.) 

2. Landslide Scarps near Reelfoot Lake, Tf.nn., produced by New Madrid earthquake. 

(Photo by Fuller.) 



• <--- : H 


found. There are no roads, and for many miles not even a solitary 
settler is to be seen, but with a good horse and a guide familiar with 
the cracks, blows and ' sand slews/ the region can be penetrated and 
tbc earthquake features examined. It is in the depths of these forests 
along the St. Francis river that the cracks reach their greatest de- 
velopment. How wide they may have been when first formed and 
how deep, no one can tell. The 
originally steep banks have crum- 
bled and the fissures partly filled 
until at the present time they re- 
semble a deep ditch more than a 
crack. Yet some of these ditch- 
like depressions are still thirty feet 
or more across and so deep that a 
man on horseback can not see over 
the top, even when he has suc- 
ceeded in scrambling or sliding 
down the steep sides. From cracks 
of this size there are all gradations 
down to little ones of only a half 
a foot in depth, but all are still 
distinctly recognizable. Most of 
them are within a quarter or half 
a mile from some river and have a 
general north-south direction, as if 
the surface of the land shifted bodily towards the waterways, leaving 
great rents in the ground where the materials parted. One of the 
smaller of the cracks is shown by one of the illustrations of the present 
article (Fig. 1). 

Fissures of another, but equally conspicuous type are the land-slide 
cracks formed where steep slopes, such as those along the east side of 
Reelfoot Lake in western Tennessee, occurred within the earthquake 
area. Here the bluffs, which are several hundred feet in height, were 
literally shaken to pieces by the shocks, the trees uprooted, overturned, 
or prostrated, and great masses of earth precipitated down the steep 
hillsides. Figure 2 shows some of the scarps thus formed, while 
another shows trees overturned at the same time (Fig. 3). Some- 
times the original trunks are decayed and gone, all perhaps but a 
projecting stump, but shoots from the original have often taken their 
place as giants of the forest. 

The features for which the Xew Madrid earthquake is most re- 
nowned, however, are the swamps and lakes which resulted from the 
warping of the surface. The former may be seen at many places in 
southern Missouri and northern Arkansas. In the view of such a 
VOL. lxix. — G. 

3. Trees Tilted by New Madrid Earth- 
quake. (Photo by Fuller.) 



swamp here given, the water growth in the foreground and the dead 
trunks of the old trees are in contrast to the dense growth of new 
timber winch is gradually reclaiming the swamp (Fig. 4). 

Reelfoot Lake, the most noted single feature resulting from the 
earthquake, is a shallow body of water between the Mississippi river 
and the Chickasaw Bluffs in western Tennessee. It has a length of 
about twenty-five miles, a width of about five miles, and a depth of 
twenty-five feet or more. Previous to the earthquake, it is said, no 
lake existed, the lauds being of the ordinary type of fertile bottoms 


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4. View in Sunk Lands formed by New Madrid Earthquake in Southeastern 

Missouri.. (Photo by Fuller.) 

characteristic of the Mississippi, and had early been granted by the 
Spanish to certain favored individuals. Through the land ran Reel- 
foot Creek, a little stream rising in the highlands on the east. 

After the earthquake all was changed. A warping of the surface 
occurred across the course of the little Reelfoot Creek, the channel in 
the lower portion being lifted above its old level so water no longer 
flowed through it. while the upper part sank and was soon covered by 
the waters that collected behind the barrier. The old channel can still 
be traced by soundings across the lake and the landmarks bounding the 
early grants made out beneath the waters, while to the south the 
nearly dry bed of the unlifted creek may be traced to the Mississippi 
(Fig. 5). 



Comparison with Later Earthquakes 
In earthquake studies one of the most fascinating lines of research 
is the investigation of the relative intensities of the different shocks. 
Of the various evidences, that afforded by the resulting disturbances of 
the surface conditions is most reliable. Accounts of those who have 
felt the shocks are unreliable in determining intensities, since the 
feelings experienced at such a time are largely dependent upon nervous 
temperament, and upon previous experiences with earthquakes. One 
feeling a shock for the first time is often seriously disturbed by 
tremblings to which a resident of an earthquake country would not 
pay the slightest attention. 

5. Old and Young Growth of Cypress in Reelfoot Lake, Tenn. The large stumps with- 
out enlarged butts are the old trees killed by the New Madrid earthquake. The living trees 
with enlarged butts are mainly subsequent growth. 

A comparison of the effects produced upon artificial structures and 
upon the earth's surface by our three great earthquakes, New Madrid, 
Charleston and San Francisco, seems to show that of the various types 
of phenomena associated with earthquakes, nearly all were more strongly 
developed at Xew Madrid than at either of the other localities. 

The length of the period of marked disturbance at San Francisco 
was only a few minutes during the eighteenth of April of this year. 
The Charleston earthquake occurred, after a preliminary tremor a day 
or two before, but not felt in the city on August 31, 1886, the severe 
shocks being confined to a few hours, although not entirely ceasing 
for three months. In Xew Madrid, on the other hand, the vibrations, 

8 4 


which began on December 16, 1811, continued almost unceasingly for 
several months, while for more than a year they recurred at frequent 
intervals. Even at the present time there is probably not a year goes 
by without a distinctly recognizable shock. 

In San Francisco few of the better class of buildings were de- 
stroyed, and in Charleston, although the damage was great, few build- 
ings collapsed completely, and the cabins were seldom more than 
shaken from their foundations. In the New Madrid region there were 
no high buildings, one story log or frame houses being the rule, but 
notwithstanding this many are said to have been shaken to pieces by 
the relatively intense shock. 

Again, no progressive wavelike undulation of the surface of any 
magnitude was recognized at the time of the shock at San Francisco, 
but at both Charleston and New Madrid the surface rose and fell in 
waves several feet in height. In Charleston the forests were but little 
affected, but at New Madrid the trees were often thrown together upon 
the ground in confused heaps or snapped sharply off near the ground 
as by an axe. 

The streams in the vicinity were little affected by the San Francisco 
shock, and even at Charleston few if any permanent changes resulted 
from the earthquake, but in the New Madrid region the effect of the 
disturbance was very marked. The courses of some of the streams were 
changed — the water following new cracks instead of the old channels. 
Others were deflected by warpings of the surface, and still others by 
sharp uplifts or faults, giving rise to swamps or bodies of open water. 

f 6. Earthquake Crateblet near Charleston, S. C, as it appeared immediately after the 



Cracks were formed by the earthquake in each locality. In San 
Francisco except along the immediate line of faulting they were 
few in number, small in size, and limited to small tracts of 
especially soft ground or to the steeper hillsides. In Charleston 
they occurred over an area several miles in diameter, but were usually 
under an inch across, except near the rivers. At New Madrid, 
on the other hand, they extended over an area many times as great, 
extending from southern Missouri nearly to Memphis, a distance of 
over one hundred miles, and from one side of the Mississippi Valley to 
the other, and were often many feet in width. No sand is reported to 
have been thrown from the cracks at San Francisco except in rare cases, 
but at Charleston numerous craterlets such as shown in one of the 
accompanying illustrations were formed, from which large amounts of 
sand and water flowed out quietly upon the surface (Fig. 6). At New 
Madrid the sand and water not only came out more frequently and 
covered a larger area, but were ejected with violence, sometimes reach- 
ing, according to observers, to the very tree tops. 

Little change of level occurred at either San Francisco or Charles- 
ton, but in the New Madrid region great areas sank and were covered 
by water, one of them now covered by Eeelfoot Lake being over twenty- 
five miles long and more than five miles wide. 

Cause of the Shock's 

The shocks in each case have had their origin in the breaking and 
slipping of hard rocks underneath. All rocks of the earth's crust are 
subjected to stresses of different kinds, such as may be produced by 
the weight of overlying material, by the shrinking of the earth's in- 
terior, or by other causes, and the time comes when their strength is no 
longer sufficient to resist them, and a break occurs, usually accompanied 
by a crushing of the rock along the fracture or by a slipping of one 
part of the rock over the other. It is this slipping or crushing which 
gives rise to the vibrations known as earthquakes. 

In the San Francisco region this slipping is constantly going on 
and minor shocks have been of frequent occurrence. It was only a 
slightly larger slip than usual which produced the recent disastrous 
shake. In Charleston the slipping was mainly at one time, no pre- 
liminary shocks of importance were felt and few occurred afterwards, 
except during a short period immediately following the earthquake, but 
in the New Madrid country the quaking has continued for several 
hundred years at least. Both the Charleston and New Madrid earth- 
quakes occurred in regions where the earth's crust is being overloaded — 
in the one instance by the sediments brought down by streams from 
the Appalachian Mountains and in the other by the floods of the 
Mississippi — and the fracturing is believed to have resulted from the 
readjustment of the harder rocks to the increasing load. 


A Look into the Future 

As to what the future holds in store for the three regions we can 
only judge by the past. The Charleston earthquake, as far as shocks 
of any intensity in recent times are concerned, is unique in the Atlantic 
Coastal region. The equilibrium has probably been regained since 
the slip of 1886, and it may be ages before another occurs. San Fran- 
cisco, on the other hand, is in an earthquake region, shocks are of 
common occurrence, and another of an intensity equal to or greater than 
the recent disturbance may occur at any time, although, on the other 
hand, the temporary adjustment brought about by the recent slip 
tends to decrease the danger of an immediate severe shock. 

In the New Madrid area, however, the earthquake of 1811-12 was 
only one of a series. Cracks may be found with trees fully 200 years 
old growing in their bottoms, indicating early shakes of equal if not 
greater intensity than the last. Nor has the movement yet ceased. 
Every year there are one or more shocks, sufficient to shake objects 
from shelves, and to seriously affect wells and springs. Only last 
summer the newspapers were full of accounts of such a shock in south- 
eastern Missouri and adjoining regions — the very area of the New 
Madrid earthquake. If there have been two or more strong shocks 
with an intensity far greater than the Charleston quake, and if the 
readjustment is not completed as is positively indicated by the recent 
shocks, then there is every reason to believe that disturbances of equal 
severity may occur in the future. Such quakes, it goes without saying, 
would be disastrous to such towns as Hickman in Kentucky, Caruthers- 
ville, New Madrid, Campbell and others in Missouri, all of which are in 
the area of disturbance. The larger cities of Cairo and Memphis, 
although outside the main area, would also probably suffer severely, as 
they are built on soft deposits overlooking the Mississippi in situations 
favoring easy slipping towards the streams. Such spots were often 
severely fissured by the early quake, large masses slipping into the 
river, and what has occurred once may occur again. St. Louis would 
also probably be severely shaken, but its buildings are less liable to 
destruction from a shock originating in the New Madrid area because 
of the remoteness from the point of disturbance. 





In the spring f 190S, the university 
community at Palo Alto was startled 
to find that in about two days upwards 
of one hundred and thirty students 
and about a hundred other people — 
most of them living in the town of 
Palo Alto, but a considerable number 
also in fraternity houses on the uni- 
versity campus — were attacked by ty- 
phoid fever. The Students' Guild, the 
cooperative hospital association of 
Stanford University, immediately' set 
to work upon the problem of furnish- 
ing hospital service, while the depart- 
ment of hygiene of the university and 
the board of health of the town of 
Palo Alto devoted themselves to the 
investigation of possible causes for the 

The university town, with a popula- 
tion of about four thousand, was en- 
tirely new and its health conditions 
were ordinarily of the very best, there 
being no slums, cesspools or foulness 
of the ordinary sort. Every sanitary 
precaution had been taken in the lodg- 
ing of students. The water supply was 
above suspicion, being drawn from 
deep-driven wells. The whole difficulty 
was finally traced to a single small 
daily, the milk of which had been the 
source of the infection. 

A full account of all elements con- 
cerned in this case has been published 
in a pamphlet for free distribution, by 
Professor J. C. L. Fish, of Stanford 
University, president of the Board of 
Health of Palo Alto, together with 
analyses of reported cases by Dr. C. D. 
Mosher, and a discussion of the source 
of infection of the milk supply by Dr. 
William F. Snow. In view of the les- 
son to be derived from this case and 
from the nearly parallel outbreak at 

Cornell University which preceded it, 
an account of the method of infection 
may be found interesting and useful. 

The report shows that there were no 
cases of typhoid fever in Palo Alto, so 
far as known, between 1894 and 1903. 
On investigation it was found that the 
one thing in common which connected 
the different houses in which cases 
were reported, was the milk supply. On 
further investigation it was found that 
the milk man got a portion of his milk 
from a Portuguese dairy about five 
miles from the university on a little 
brook tributary to Los Trancos Creek. 
Samples of the water used in washing 
the cans and cooling the milk were ex- 
amined by bacteriologists and found 
to contain large quantities of the 
bacillus coli communis, the well-known 
bacillus of typhoid fever. 

The investigation of the sources of 
infection at the Portuguese dairy reads 
like the plot of a tragedy. The scene 
is laid in the month of December, 1902, 
at Stanford University and Palo Alto 
and the immediate vicinity. The 
dramatis prrsonce are taken from 
homes all over the country. The 
Serpa house, where the trouble begins, 
is situated on the banks of the Madera 
Creek, three miles above Mayfield. A 
cousin, from San Francisco, comes to 
visit the Serpas. Soon after his ar- 
rival lie complains of feeling ill, and 
.Mrs. Serpa nurses him; she does not 
consider him sick enough to demand 
the services of a physician. One week 
later the relative is better, but Mrs. 
Serpa is quite sick herself and Serpa 
calls in a doctor, who pronounces the 
case one of typhoid fever. A few days 
more and two of the Serpa children are 
taken ill with symptoms identical with 
those of the mother and the cousin. 
Serpa now becomes thoroughly fright- 



ened and abandons what little coopera- 
tion in medical and sanitary precau- 
tions up to this time he has given to 
the physician. Confusion reigns in the 
Serpa house, and many friends come 
from the surrounding ranches to nurse 
the sick and to sympathize with dis- 
tressed husband and father. 

The San Francisco cousin, Serpa's 
wife and the two sick children of 
Serpa die of typhoid fever. Friends . 
again come to console and remain to ' 
be consoled by food and drink. Among 
the guests are N. and N.'s wife from 
the N. dairy, P. and the family of P. i 
from the P. dairy, an aunt and her 
daughter from San Gregorio (a sea- 
coast town forty miles away) and a 
Portuguese family living on Los Tran- 
cos Creek on the road from the P. 
dairy to Palo Alto. 

When the aunt, with her daughter, 
leaves the Serpa house, she takes with ' 
her two of the Serpa children. The 
first act ends with the general breaking 
up and dispersion of these solicitous 
friends to their respective homes. 

The second act begins January, 1903. 
N. and the wife of N. lie sick at the 
N. dairy with typhoid fever. N. dies. 

P. lives on the banks of Los Trancos 
Creek, a few hundred feet above the 
intake of the dairy water system; 
there are no buildings higher tip on 
the drainage area of the system. Nine- 
teen Filipino wood choppers and a 
hundred lumbermen are employed in 
the hills surrounding the P. dairy; 
they visit the dairy ranch. On the 
banks of the creek, near the pig pen 
and just above the dairy water supply 
intake, are primitive out-house facili- 
ties for these laborers. 

P.'s child is sick with fever. P. 
complains of a general malaise. At 
the aunt's house in San Gregorio, the 
aunt and her daughter and the two 

Serpa children are ill with typhoid 
fever. In the Portuguese houses on 
Los Trancos Creek, on the road from 
the P. dairy to Palo Alto, are five cases 
of typhoid fever. At Stanford Univer- 
sity and Palo Alto there are two hun- 
dred and thirty-six cases of typhoid 
fever. The black pall of death hangs 
over the university and Palo Alto. 
Parents all over the country sit in 
darkened homes with bowed heads and 
mourn for the dearly beloved son or 
daughter, while the health officers work 
with sleepless activity. " By the proc- 
ess of elimination and by the sequence 
of events connecting the typhoid fever 
at the Serpa house with the P. illness, 
the outhouse on the bank of the P. 
creek, the rains and the impounded 
water at the dam, the conclusion is 
reached that the P. milk was infected 
through admixture with the creek 
water used at the milk house of the 
P. dairy." 

Dr. Clelia D. Mosher's contribution 
to the ' report ' contains an exhaustive 
study of the symptoms, relapses and 
complications of the reported cases. 
The analysis is based on the detailed 
reports of the physicians, supplemented 
by statements from the families and 
the individuals affected, together with 
a careful investigation of the death 
records. The total number of cases 
reaches 23G; this number includes 24 
known eases for which no reports were 
obtained, occurring among students 
who had left Palo Alto after the out- 
break of the epidemic. 

The ages of the patients vary from 
two months to sixty years. Dr. Mosher 
shows that the most susceptible age, 
between fifteen and thirty years, is far 
above the average and explains the 
number of children infected by the fact 
that milk was the source of infection. 
Edith V. Matzke. 






At the New Orleans meeting of the 
American Association for the Advance- 
ment of Science the council voted that 
in addition to the regular winter meet- 
ing, a summer meeting should be held 
at Ithaca, X. Y., from June 29 to July 
3. For such an experiment, and the 
holding of more than one meeting a 
year is avowedly an experiment, the 
place is well chosen. Ithaca is a 
university town and well adapted by 
climate and situation for a summer 
meeting. The campus, where these ses- 
sions will be held, is green and well 
shaded. It is nearly 1,000 feet above 
sea level and overlooks from a height of 
400 feet one of the most famous and 
beautiful of the lakes of central New 

In the immediate neighborhood of 
Ithaca are many places of scenic as 
well as scientific interest. At Taughan- 
nock, about eight miles away, a water 
fall, 215 feet in height, plunges into an 
amphitheater the forest-topped walls of 
which rise vertically more than 300 feet 
above the bed of the stream. Lucifer 
Falls at Enfield about the same dis- 
tance and numerous other cataracts in 
the glens formed by the tributaries of 
( avuga Lake are also of great interest 
and beauty. The local committee is 
arranging for various short excursions 
to these places and also one to the 
widely known sociological colony — the 
George Junior Republic. Some of the 
sections are planning to devote their 
meetings exclusively to field work and 
excursions. Papers will be read and 
discussions held at the places visited 
during the excursions. 

On Thursdav evening. June 2S. there 

will be an informal smoker at the 
Town and Gown Club of Ithaca. On 
Friday afternoon, June 29, the new 
Physics Laboratory of Cornell Univer- 
sity — Rockefeller Hall — will be opened 
and several well-known men of science 
will speak. On Monday evening, July 
2, a public address, by Professor J. C. 
Branner, of Stanford University, on 
' The Great California Earthquake,' un- 
der the auspices of the society of the 
Sigma Xi will commemorate the 
twentieth anniversary of the founding 
of that organization. Other public lec- 
tures will be given by President David 
Starr Jordan, of Stanford University, 
on 'The San Francisco Disaster'; by 
Professor Henry S. Carhart, of the Uni- 
versity of Michigan, on ' The South 
African Meeting of the British Associa- 
tion for the Advancement of Science,' 
and by Major General George W. Davis, 
U.S.A., on ' The Great Canals of the 

In addition to the usual meetings of 

; sections, a number of special societies 
will hold sessions in conjunction with 
the American Association. Among 
these are the Society for the Promotion 
of Engineering Education, the Amer- 
ican Physical Society, the American 

; Chemical Society, the Society for Chem- 
ical Industry and the American Micro- 
scopical Society. 

As has been said the holding of a 
summer as well as a winter meeting 
of the association is an experiment, 
but it is an experiment which should 
have the active cooperation of all those 
who are interested in the advancement 
and diffusion of science. Until 1902 
the association met in the summer, and 
other scientific societies met in groups 
during the Christmas holidays. For a 
large and technical meeting, the winter 
is the best season, and a large citv 



















9 1 

musl be chosen. But ninny members 
,ii the association have regretted the 
abandonment of the summer meetings, 
which could be held in a university 
town or summer resort, when out-of- 
door life and excursions are pleasant, 
and where old acquaintances and 
friends may be met and new ones made. 
The American Association has now 
more than twice as many members as 
in 1900, and it should be able to in- 
crease its service by holding meetings 
that will fill the needs of all. It is to 
lie hoped that those who believe that 
summer meetings are desirable or that 
the experiment should be tried will go 
to Ithaca. Whether the meeting is 
large or small, it will surely he inter- 
esting and enjoyable. 


The fifty-seventh annual meeting of 
American Medical Association which 
began at Boston on June 5 was the 
largest and most notable in its history. 
There were about five thousand members 
in attendance; the scientific sessions 
improve from year to year, and the or- 
ganization becomes more efficient and 
influential. Washington, New York and 
Boston are the three chief scientific 
centers of this country. Of the one 
thousand leading scientific men 119 are 
in Washington, 119 in New York and 
85 in Boston-Cambridge. But historic 
continuity has been longest maintained 
at Boston, and it seems to lend itself 
better than any other city to a large 
scientific gathering. There the Amer- 
ican Association for the Advancement 
of Science, the National Educational 
Association and now the American 
Medical Association have held their 
largest meetings. The governor of the 
Mate and the mayor of the city main- 
tain the tradition of being gentlemen, 
while a welcome from President Eliot 
gives distinction to any gathering. The 
conditions in Boston are more nearly 
those of an English city, and the formal 

functions, the receptions and the garden 
parties pass off more smoothly and 
with less artificiality and aimlessness 
than in other American cities. 

After the greetings of the opening 
Nession. Dr. Louis McMurtry, of Louis- 
ville, Ivy., the retiring president, intro- 
duced the president elect, Dr. William 
J. Mayo, of Rochester, Minn., who 
made the annual address. It was con- 
cerned mainly with the organization of 
the medical profession and its relations 
to the public, emphasizing, though per- 
haps unconsciously, the trades union 
character of the association. Among 
the topics reviewed were: the need of 
union to promote not only the interests 
of the profession, but also the welfare 
of the public; the function of the med- 
ical profession in enlightening the 
public in regard to sanitation, the dan- 
gers from poisonous nostrums and the 
need of compulsory vaccination; the 
improvement of the army and navy 
medical departments; the supervision 
of medical schools and reciprocity in 
medical licenses ; the relations of physi- 
cians to the insurance companies, con- 
tract practise, and hospital abuse by 
patients who are able to pay; the 
financial position of the physician and 
the evil of accepting commissions from 
specialists; the strained relations be- 
tween medicine and pharmacy. In con- 
clusion Dr. Mayo said: " The vital need 
of the medical profession is a harmon- 
ious organization — an organization that 
will encourage right thinking and good 
usage among ourselves, help to secure 
needed medical reforms, compel redress 
of grievances and promote and encour- 
age the highest interests of its individ- 
ual members: and in this lies the fu- 
ture usefulness of the profession as a 

The organization of the association 
has resulted in the ' house of delegates,' 
representing the medical profession 
through the states. The county med- 
ical societies unite in a state so- 
ciety and the state societies in the 
national association. The subjects dis- 

9 2 


























cussed in the sessions of the house of 
delegates were largely those referred to 
in the address of the president. The 
strength of the association is indi- 
cated by the fact that it h£s nearly 
25.000 members and an annual income 
of about $275,000. Its Journal is an 
important factor in organization and in 
the advancement of medical science. 

For the presentation and discussion 
of scientific papers the association is 
divided into numerous sections. The 
programs at Boston were better than 
ever before, but the papers were very 
diverse in method and uneven in value. 
The scientific exhibits Ave re unusually 
good, and Avere seen to much adA^antage 
in the neAV HarA-ard medical buildings, 
themselves an exhibit of unsurpassed 


Tiie new buildings of the Harvard 
Medical School are beautiful beyond 
illustration or description. They are 
a renaissance and reincarnation of the 
spirit of Greek simplicity, dignity and 
perfection. It is probable that there are 
no other academic or public buildings 
in America having equal distinction and 
beauty. This, at least, was the im- 
pression made on the present Avriter, in 
spite of garden parties and unkempt 
surroundings. This opinion, if con- 
ferred by competent judges, deserA'es 
special emphasis, because the labora- 
tories and lecture-rooms haA'e not been 
put into buildings designed to look 
Avell, but the buildings were made for 
their uses in accordance with plans of 



members of the Harvard medical fac- 
ulty. The thanks of all men of science 
are due to the architects, Messrs. 
Shepley, Rutan and Coolidge. 

Professor Mi not proposed the ' unit 
system' and Professor Porter the ar- 
rangement of two wings with a common 
lecture-room and library. The unit 
adopted for the laboratories is 23 x 30 
feet, accommodating 24 students. Each 
unit has three windows and can be sub- 
divided into two or three rooms. The 
smaller rooms for individual research 
are also divided into mezzonine storeys. 
The windows extend to the ceilings, giv- 
ing abundant light, and the architec- 
tural effects are in some measure due 
to the piers of pilasters between the 
windows. The buildings can be ex- 
tended by adding new units, and would 
finally form courts. 

The arrangement of the buildings is 
shown in the illustration and by the 
ground plan. The administration 
building contains offices, common- 
rooms, lecture-rooms and the Warren 
Museum with an area of 22,000 square 
feet. The laboratories are for anatomy 
and histology, physiology and physio- 
logical chemistry, pharmacology and 
hygiene and bacteriology and pathol- 
ogy, each pair having a common amphi- 
theater and library. The arrange- 
ments for heating, ventilation, refriger- 
ating, etc., are very complete. 

The large cost of these buildings ap- 
pears to be justified, as the money was 
given for them and might be charged 
to the city of Boston and the people 
of the country as well as to medical 
education. It is said that the gray 
marble added only three per cent, to 
the cost. The buildings do not, how- 
ever, provide for clinical work, and as 
there are altogether only 287 students 
in the school, the rent to be charged to 
each student is in the neighborhood of 
$.500. The number of students will, 
however, increase. The need of four 
similar amphitheaters, each seating 265 
students is not clear. They may be 
built for the future, but the future 
may show the futility of lecturing to 

large audiences of medical students. 
Here the unit system seems to be lack- 
ing where it was especially needed, 
^•till less evident is the desirability of 
four separate libraries which will ap- 
parently be both expensive and incon- 
venient. But the fundamental criti- 
cism which must be made is the per- 
manent separation of the medical school 
from the rest of the university. It 
appears to the present writer that Har- 
vard has done great harm to itself and 
to education by 'segregating both in 
time and space the work in medical 
science. It requires the bachelor's de- 
gree for entrance to the medical school, 
whereas if the sciences preliminary to 
medicine were carried on at the col- 
lege, the liberal studies would become 
less aimless and the professional stud- 
ies more liberal. The separation of 
liberal studies, professional work and 
research does injury to each. 


The Phi Beta Kappa address given 
by Mr. Charles Francis Adams at Co- 
lumbia University has been printed in 
the daily papers of more than one city, 
with abundant editorial comment and 
letters from correspondents. This 
means that the address was concerned 
with an interesting problem or, at all 
events, attacked a problem in an inter- 
esting way. Mr. Adams is alleged to 
have said when engaged in writing a 
book upon Puritan life, " I never have 
been so happy as during the last year; 
! 1 have been destroying people's ideals." 
At all events he confesses in the pres- 
ent address to ' a decided lack of faith 
in ideals.' The iconoclasm is enter- 
taining, and it may be profitable, but 
apart from the characteristically per- 
sonal form of expression it is not new. 
Neither is the remedy new though it 
is claimed as such in Touchstone's 
words: 'An ill-favored thing, sir, but 
mine own.' 

Mr. Adams became academically 
famous in 1883 by another Phi Beta 
Kappa address on ' The College Fetich,' 



namely. Greek. He now finds thai there 
are things in colleges thai are worse 
than Greek, namely, the elective system. 
which lie calls crude, ill-considered, 
thoroughly unscientific and extremely 
mischievous.' The address may be 
fairly represented by the concluding 
paragraph, which reads: 

" For him who graduated half a cen- 
tury ago, the game is now either won 
to a degree or irretrievably lost. But, 
reviewing his record, he is apt to see 
with great distinctness the nature of 
the game, and wherein his play was 
defective, wherein correct. For my- 
self, thus retrospecting, I am con- 
strained to say that, as a training place 
for the game in which I was to take a 
hand, the college of the period — and 
Harvard stood first among them — 
viewed as a mental gymnasium, was 
ill-adapted to existing conditions, un- 
sympathetic, and, as respects organiza- 
tion, already distinctly outgrown. In 
the matter of intellectual training, it 
was a period of transition — the system 
of prescribed studies was yielding to a 
theory of electives. So far as it had 
then been developed and applied, the 
new system proved in my experience a 
delusion, a pitfall, and a snare. My 
observation, as I said in the beginning, 
leads me to apprehend that conditions 
in these respects have not since changed 
for the better. The old organization 
yet lumbers along; the implicit belief 
in the pursuit of aptitudes on lines of 
least resistance is in fullest vogue. 
Could I, on the contrary, have my way, 
I would now break our traditional 
academic system into fragments, as 
something which had long since done 
its work and is now quite outgrown; 
and I would somehow get back to the 
close contact of mind upon mind. I 
would to a large extent do away with 
this arms-length lecture-room educa- 
tion for the college period. I would 
develop an elective system based on 
scientific principles, and the study of 
the individual: properly regulated, it 
should be intelligently applied. I 
would prescribe one of the classic 

tongues, Greek or Latin, as a com- 
pulsory study to the day of gradua- 
tion, the one royal road to a knowledge 
of all that is tinest in letters and art. 
1 would force every student to reason 
closely all through his college days; 
while no man not trained to observe, 
and equal to tests in observation, 
should receive a degree. Beyond this 
I would let the student elect. 


The Bureau of the Census has issued 
a special report on statistics of mortal- 
ity from 1000 to 1004. which gives 
important information in regard to the 
prevalence of certain diseases. 

Tuberculosis of the lungs and pneu- 
monia were by far the leading causes 
of death. The average annual mortal- 
ity from tuberculosis of the lungs, or 
consumption was 172.6 per 100.000 of 
population. The rate has shown a 
marked decline since 1S90, when it was 
245.4. The mortality from this dis- 
ease in the registration area in the 
United States is lower than it is in 
Ireland, Germany, Norway, Spain and 
Switzerland, but higher than in Eng- 
land and Wales, Scotland, the Nether- 
lands, Belgium and Italy. 

Pneumonia was second among the 
principal causes of death, the average 
annual rate being 165.6 per 100,000 of 
population. In the registration states 
the mortality from pneumonia was 
about 50 per cent, higher in the cities 
than in the rural districts. 

Heart disease was third among the 
leading causes of death, the average 
annual rate in the registration area 
for the five years being 120.9 per 100,- 
000 of population. 

Among the leading causes of death, 
diarrhoea and enteritis were fourth, the 
average annual mortality from this 
disease for the five years being 113.1 
per 100,000. Over 80 per cent, of the 
deaths from these diseases were deaths 
of children under 5 years of age, and 
over 65 per cent, of children under 1 
! year of age. The average annual death 
rate from these diseases was about 75 

9 6 


per cent, higher in the cities than in 
the rural districts. 

The average annual death rate from 
typhoid fever in the registration area 
was 33. S per 100,000 of population. Of 
the ten European countries for which 
similar statistics are available Italy 
alone shows a higher. The mortality 
from typhoid fever was excessively high 
in Pittsburg, Cleveland, Cincinnati, 
Columbus, Louisville and Washington. 
The average annual rate was much be- 
low the average in New York City, St. 
Paul, Milwaukee, and Jersey City. 

Dr. A. Graham Bell, the inventor 
of the telephone, has been given the 
doctorate of laws by the University of 
Edinburgh. — The United States am- 
bassador to Great Britain, Mr. White- 
law Reid, has presented the gold medal 
of the American Geographical Society 
to Captain R. X. Scott, commander of 
the National Antarctic Expedition. — 
Dr. Joseph D. Bryant, of New York 
City, has been elected president of the 
American Medical Association. — At the 
recent International Medical Congress 
at Lisbon, the Moscow prize was 

awarded to M. Laveran and the Paris 
prize to Professor Ehrlich. 

The International Congress of Ap- 
plied Chemistry at Rome resolved that 
the seventh congress shall be held in 
London, with Sir William Ramsay as 
the president and Sir Henry Roscoe as 
honorary president. — The sixteenth In- 
ternational Medical Congress will be 
held at Buda Pesth in 1909, under the 
presidency of Professor C. Miiller. It 
is likely that the following congress 
will be held in New York City. 

The Prince of Monaco has offered to 
give his Museum of Oceanography and 
Laboratory for the Investigation of the 
Seas, now at Monaco, to the city of 
Paris, with an endowment of $1,000,- 
000. The institution is to be under the 
charge of an international committee. — 
It is announced that Mr. David Rankin, 
of St. Louis, has decided to give $2,000,- 
000 to found an industrial and manual 
training school in St. Louis. — Arrange- 
ments have been completed, under a 
plan outlined by Alfred Mosely, to send, 
between November and March, five hun- 
dred British teachers to the United 
States and Canada to study the edu- 
cational systems of the two countries. 



AUGUST, 1906 




T T is the natural and legitimate ambition of a properly constituted 
-■- geologist to see a glacier, witness an eruption and feel an earth- 
quake. The glacier is always ready, awaiting his visit ; the eruption 
has a course to run, and alacrity only is needed to catch its more im- 
portant phases; but the earthquake, unheralded and brief, may elude 
him through his entire lifetime. It had been my fortune to experience 
only a single weak tremor, and I had, moreover, been tantalized by 
narrowly missing the great Inyo earthquake of 1872 and the Alaska 
earthquake of 1899. When, therefore, I was awakened in Berkeley on 
the eighteenth of April last by a tumult of motions and noises, it was 
with unalloyed pleasure that I became aware that a vigorous earthquake 
was in progress. The creaking of the building, which has a heavy 
frame of redwood, and the rattling of various articles of furniture so 
occupied my attention that I did not fully differentiate the noises 
peculiar to the earthquake itself. The motions I was able to analyze 
more successfully, perceiving that, while they had many directions, the 
dominant factor was a swaying in the north-south direction, which 
caused me to roll slightly as I lay with my head toward the east. 
Afterward I found a suspended electric lamp swinging in the north- 
south direction, and observed that water had been splashed southward 
from a pitcher. These notes of direction were of little value, however, 
except as showing control by the structure of the building, for in 
another part of the same building the east-west motion was dominant. 

1 Published by permission of the director of the United States Geological 
Survey and of the chairman of the California Earthquake Investigation Com- 

9 8 


Fig. 1. Map showing the Position of the Fault which caused the San Francisco 



In my immediate vicinity the destructive effects were trivial, and 
I did not learn until two hours later that a great disaster had been 
wrought on the opposite side of the hay and that San Francisco was in 
flames. This information at once incited a tour of observation, and 
thus began, so far as I was personally concerned, the investigation of 
the earthquake. A similar beginning was doubtless made by every 
other geologist in the state, and the initial work of observation and 
record was individual and without concert. But organization soon 
followed, and by the end of the second day it is probable that twenty 
men were working in cooperation under the leadership of Professor 
-J. C. Branner, of Stanford University, and Professor A. C. Lawson, 
of the State University at Berkeley. At that time and for several 
succeeding days the ordinary means of communication were so paralyzed 
or overburdened that no messages passed between these two centers of 
organization ; but as the needs of the hour were patent to all, the work 
was not prejudiced by the lack of intercommunication. 

On the third day after the shock Governor Pardee appointed a 
State Earthquake Investigation Commission, naming as its chairman 
the head of the geological department of the State University, Pro- 
fessor Lawson, and including in its membership Professor Branner, of 
the Stanford University, Professors Davidson and Leuschner, of the 
State University, Professor Campbell, of the Lick Observatory, Mr. 
Burckhalter, of the Chabot Observatory, Professor Eeid, of Johns 
Hopkins University and Mr. Gilbert, of the United States Geological 
Survey. The commission held its first meeting three days later, when 
the scope of its work was considered and defined, provision was made 
for circulars soliciting information, an announcement was prepared for 
the purpose of relieving certain groundless fears entertained by a por- 
tion of the community, and two committees were appointed for the 
general work of observation. To the first committee, with Professor 
Lawson as chairman, was assigned the determination and study of 
surface changes associated with the earthquake and the collection of 
data as to intensity, so that isoseismals, or curves of equal intensity, 
might be drawn upon the map. To the second committee, with Pro- 
fessor Leuschner as chairman, was assigned the collection of data for 
the drawing of coseismals, or lines connecting points on the earth's sur- 
face reached by the shock at the same instant. Some weeks afterward, 
when the main features of the earthquake had become known, a third 
committee was appointed, with Professor Eeid as chairman, to consider 
the relations of the earthquake phenomena to certain problems in 
geophysics, or the science of the inner earth. 

The work of these three committees is still in progress, and will 
not be completed for several months. The actual drawing of isoseis- 
mals and coseismals can not be performed until a large body of obser- 



vations have been compiled and studied, and the geophysical problems 
are as yet only imperfectly formulated ; but of the physiographic 
phenomena, or the disturbances of the earth's surface, so much is known 
that it has been thought advisable to prepare a preliminary report. 
This was submitted to the governor on the third of June, and has been 
issued as a pamphlet of twenty pages. The expenses of the commission 
are being met by the Carnegie Institution. 

Architects and engineers were not less prompt and energetic. To 

Fig. 2. Fault Topography between Tomales and Bolinas Bays; looking northwest. 
The general slope toward the left has been interrupted by a slight uplift of the part at the left. 
The pond occupies a hollow thus produced. 

the men who plan and direct construction in the earthquake district 
of California it was important to know what materials and what struc- 
tural forms best withstood the shock, and they immediately began the 
study of earthquake injuries and of instances of immunity from earth- 
quake effects. In that part of San Francisco where the earthquake 
injury was most serious the shock was quickly followed by fire, which 
destroyed much of the evidence, but many important observations were 
made in the brief interval. The study of structural questions, like the 


study of natural phenomena, was at first individual only, but after- 
ward was aided by organization. Committees were appointed by 
various professional societies, national and local, and were charged 
with the investigation of specific structural questions, and the results 
of their labors will find place not only in the transactions of the 
societies, but in revised building - regulations and in important modifica- 
tions of municipal plants for lighting and water supply. Various 
bureaus of the national government have also taken part in the struc- 
tural studies, sending experts to San Francisco and other localities of 
exceptional earthquake violence. 

The Japanese government promptly sent to California a committee 
of investigation headed by Dr. Omori, professor of seismology in the 
University of Tokyo, and composed otherwise of architects and engi- 
neers. The first conference of these visitors with the state commission 
warranted the suggestion that we may find it as profitable to follow 
Japanese initiative in the matter of earthquake-resisting construction 
as in that of army hygiene. 

The following sketch of the physical features of the earthquake is 
based chiefly on the body of data gathered by the State Commission: 

An earthquake is a jar occasioned by some violent rupture. Some- 
times the rupture results from an explosion, but more commonly from 
the sudden breaking of rock under strain. The strain may be caused 
by the rising of lava in a volcano or by the forces that make mountain 
ranges and continents. The San Francisco earthquake of April 18 had 
its origin in a rupture associated with mountain-making forces. A 
rupture of this sort may lie a mere pulling apart of the rocks so as to 
make a crack, but examples of that simple type are comparatively rare. 
The great majority of instances include not only the making of a crack 
but the relative movement or sliding of the rock masses on the two 
sides of the crack ; that is to say, instead of a mere fracture there is a 
geologic fault. After a fault has been made its walls slowly become 
cemented or welded together, but for a long time it remains a plane 
of weakness, so that subsequent strains are apt to be relieved by renewed 
slipping on the same plane of rupture, and hundreds of earthquakes 
may thus originate in the same place. From the point of view of the 
geologist the displacements of rock masses are the primary and impor- 
tant phenomena: the faults are incidental phenomena, of great value as 
indices of the displacements ; and the earthquakes are of the nature of 
symptoms, serving to direct attention to the fact that the great earth 
forces have not ceased to act. 

A faulting may occur far beneath the surface and be known only 
by the resulting earthquake; but some of the quake-causing ruptures 
extend to the surface and thus become visible. The Xew Madrid and 
Charleston earthquakes are examples of those having deep-seated 




the Inyo and San Francisco of those whose causative faults 
reached the surface of the ground. 

The general character of California earthquakes was so well known 
that when the dispatches told of a severe shock at San Francisco no 
American geologist had a moment's doubt that it was caused by a fault 
movement, and among those specially conversant with the structure of 
the affected district attention was immediately directed to several fault 
lines, with the expectation that one or more of them would show the 
marks of fresh dislocation. Mr. Eansome prepared a prophetic article 

Fig. 3. This Fence, Previously Continuous and Straight, was broken and parted by 
the earthquake fault, the offset being S% feet. The line of fault, concealed by the grass, crosses 
the grouud from left to right, touching both the dissevered ends of the fence. 

in which he indicated the lines most likely to be concerned. 2 Pro- 
fessor Branner stated in an interview that he had immediately made a 
forecast of the locality of the origin and that it had proved to be cor- 
rect, and Mr. Fairbanks went at once to a zone of ' earthquake topog- 
raphy ' with which he was already acquainted, and found a fresh 
rupture in the expected place. 

2 Nat. Geog. Mag., Vol. 17. 1906, pp. 280-29C. 



The San Francisco earthquake was caused by a new slipping on the 
plane of an old fault which had been recognized for a long distance in 
California, and in one place had been named the San Andreas fault. 
Associated with this fault is a belt of peculiar topography, differing 
from the ordinary topographic expression of the country in that many 
of its features are directly due to dislocation, instead of being the 
product of erosion by rains and streams. One of its characteristics is 
the frequent occurrence of long lines of very straight cliffs. Another 
is the frequent occurrence of ponds or lakes in straight rows. The 
tendency of erosion is to break up such cliffs into series of spurs and 
valleys and to obliterate the lakes by cutting down their outlets or 
filling their basins with sediment. Fig. 2 shows one of the fault-made 
ponds. This line and zone have been recognized by California geol- 
ogists through a distance of several 
hundred miles. It was to this line 
that attention and expectation were 
especially directed, and it was on 
this line that the surface evidence 
of new faulting was actually found. 
The new movement was not coex- 
tensive with the line as previously 
traced, but affected only the north- 
western portion; and, on the other 
hand, it extended farther to the north- 
west and north than the old line 
had previously been recognized. The 
accompanying map represents only 
the line along which the recent 
change occurred. From a point a 
few miles southwest of Hollister it 
runs northwestward in a series of 

valleys between low mountain ridges to the Mussel Rock, ten miles 
south of the Golden Gate. Thence northwestward and northward it 
follows the general coast line, alternately traversing land and water. 
The farthest point as yet definitely located is at Point Delgada, but the 
intensity of the shock at the towns of Petrolia and Ferndale probably 
indicates the close proximity of the fault and warrants the statement 
that its full length is not less than three hundred miles. South of 
Point Arena its course is direct, with only gentle flexure, but the data 
farther north seem to imply either branching or strong inflexion. 
Opposite San Francisco its position is several miles west of the coast 
line, and it nowhere touches a large town. 

That which occurred along this line was a differential movement 
and permanent displacement of the rock and earth on the two sides of a 

Fig. 4. Diagrams Illustrating the 
Dislocation Causing the San Fran- 
cisco Earthquake. The upper repre- 
sents an earth block 100 feet square and 
25 feet thick, with indication of the posi- 
tion of the fracture. The lower shows the 
relation of its two parts after faulting. 



vertical crack. The principal displacement was not vertical, but hori- 
zontal. If one thinks of the land to the east of the crack as stationary, 
then the change may be described as a northward movement of the land 
west of the crack. If the land to the west be thought of as stationary 
then the land to the eastward moved toward the south. It is probable 
that both tracts shared in the movement, the eastern shifting toward the 
south and the western toward the north. Perhaps the nature of the 
change can be more readily understood by reference to Tig. 4, which 
represents an ideal block of the earth's crust, 100 feet square on the 
surface and 25 feet deep, before and after its division and dislocation 
by the earthquake-causing fault. 

Wherever a fence, road, row of trees, or other artificial feature 
following a straight line was intersected by the fault its separated parts 
were offset, and an opportunity thus afforded for measuring the 
amount of change. The measurements range in the main from 6 to 15 

Fig. 5. A Faulted Road near the Head of Tomales Bay. The nearer and more dis- 
tant parts of the road were originally in one line— a continuous, straight road. The present t ff- 
set is twenty feet. 





feet and have an average of about 10 feet. At one place (Fig. 5) a 

road was offset 20 feet, but in this case the underlying ground was wet 

alluvium and part of its movement may have been due to a flowing of 

the soft material. There was also 

some vertical change, but this was 

not everywhere in the same direction 

and its amount was comparatively 

small. At many points the land 

west of the fault appears to have 

risen one or two feet as compared 

with the land at the east. 

The surface manifestation is not 
usually a simple crack, but a dis- 
turbed zone a few feet broad, the 
earth within the zone being split into 
blocks which show more or less twist- 
ing or rotation. In some places 
the zone is slightly depressed below 
the adjoining surfaces, and else- 
whore slightly elevated. Other dis- 
turbances of the surface were asso- 
ciated with the earthquake, but the 
track of the central fault has a 
character of its own, a character with 
which the field workers soon be- 
came familiar, so that it could be clearly identified. It came to be 
distinguished in their conversation and note-books as * the rift.' For 
considerable distances the rift is single, but elsewhere it is more or 
less divided, the parts lying within a few rods of one another and being 
approximately parallel. There are also branches parting from the main 
rift at various angles and gradually dying out in the adjacent country, 
and in some of these the belt of disturbance is broad and complicated 
(Fig. 7). There are also outlying cracks occurring within a mile or 
two of the central rift and having irregular courses, and these mav 
probably be referred to the same general system of rock strains. 

Other cracks are distinctly secondary in character; that is to say. 
they are not due directly to the stresses and strains by which the fault 
was made, but are results of the earthquake itself. The jar constituting 
the earthquake, or in technical language the earthquake wave, as it 
travels through rock and earth produces temporary compressions and 
other strains, and these often occasion cracks at the surface. Where 
the material is elastic such secondary cracks merely open and close, 
leaving the ground with its original form ; but where it is inelastic and 
incoherent, as in the case of young alluvial formations and artificial 

Fig. 6. Ordinaky Api'Eai;a.\ce of the 
Earthquake Rift where it traverses 
Firm Turf. 



fillings, some of the cracks opened by passing waves do not close again, 
but remain as permanent vestiges of the shock. Closely associated 
with these secondary cracks in soft ground are permanent changes in 
surface form. At the head of Tomales Bay, for example, a broad 
tract of soft ground between high and low tide was thrown into low 
ridges, with cracks along their crests, and these remained until de- 
stroyed by wind waves. In San Francisco considerable tracts of 
' filled ' land were shaken together and thus made to settle a few feet, 
and were at the same time slidden several feet toward the bay (Fig. 9). 
Certain changes, very conspicuous to the observer who drove about 
the country, are closely associated with roads. A side-hill road is 

Fig. 7. A Zone of Earthquake Fracture where it crosses a Road near Bolinas. 

usually constructed by excavating a notch in the natural slope and piling 
the excavated material in an embankment at the outer edge of the 
notch. In course of time, and especially during rainy seasons, the 
embankment at the outer edge of such a road settles and has to be built 
up as a matter of repair. Portions of the bluff on the up-hill side of the 
notch are also apt to fall away, taking the form of small landslides, 
which have to be removed from the road as a rule after every rainy 
season. The earthquake precipitated many changes of this sort. Along 
all side-hill roads in the immediate vicinity of the rift a crack was de- 
veloped between the embankment and the original soil against which 



it rested, and this crack often assumed formidable dimensions (Fig. 
10) ; in fact its magnitude was found to be a convenient index of the 
local violence of the earthquake in regions where buildings are rare. 
Landslips from the bluffs margining the roads (Fig. 11) were also 
very numerous, in many instances stopping traffic until repairs could 
be made. And there were many landslides on a larger scale, the earth- 
quake initiating movements which might otherwise have been delayed 
for years or even centuries. Some of these landslides fell into streams, 
dammed their waters and created temporary lakes. 

Fig. 8. Cracks caused by the Shaking of Marshy Ground. The comparatively firm 
road embankment preserved the cracks better than the bog. 

Other disturbances of water supply were more directly connected 
with the earthquake. At several points large volumes of water were 
squeezed from the ground during the agitation, causing brief but 
violent torrents, and one of these brought with it so much sand as to 
constitute a sort of sand eruption. There are reports also that certain 
springs have received a permanent increase in volume, a result which 
would naturally follow from the modification of underground circula- 
tion by the cracking of rock and earth. 



Wherever the shock was specially strong there was considerable 
injury to trees; some were overturned, others broken near the ground, 
and yet others broken near their tops. A number of large redwood 
trees standing on the line of the rift were split from the ground up- 
ward, the basal portions being faulted along with the ground they 
stood on. 

In the systematic survey of the earthquake area the relative inten- 
sity is being estimated by means of the records of various physical 

Fig. 9. Street Scene in San Francisco, showing effect of the earthquake on filled ground. 
The distant p rt of the street probably retains its original level and position. Nearer by the 
ground has settled several feet and has also moved to the left. 

effects. In the immediate vicinity of the fault road-cracks and cracks 
in alluvium are large and numerous; many trees were broken or over- 
turned ; there were many landslides ; half of the wooden buildings of 
any village or hamlet were shifted horizontally, often with serious in- 
jury; buildings and chimneys of brick or stone were thrown clown; 



during the shock men. cows, and horses found it impossible to stand, 
and fell to the ground ; and some persons were even thrown from their 
beds. In a general way all these evidences of violence diminish gradu- 
ally with distance from the fault on either side. The rate of diminu- 
tion, with exceptions to be mentioned presently, may be expressed by 
saying that at live miles from the fault only a few men and animals 
were shaken from their feet, only a few wooden houses were moved 
from their foundations, about half the brick chimneys remained sound 
and in condition for use, sound trees were not broken, and no cracks 
were opened which did not immediately close. At a distance of twenty 
miles only an occasional chimney was overturned, the walls of some 
brick buildings were cracked, and wooden buildings escaped without 
injury; the ground was not cracked, landslides were rare, and not all 
sleepers were wakened. At seventy-five miles the shock was observed 
by nearly all persons awake at the time, but there were no destructive 
effects; and at two hundred miles it was perceived by only a few 

Fig. 10. Road Crack caused by the Earthquake. 



Fig. 11. Small Landslide on the Uphill Side of a Side-hill Road. 

A number of exceptions to this gradation of intensity are connected 
with tracts of deep alluvial soil, especially if saturated with water, 
and with tracts of ' made ground.' The great destruction in the low- 
lying part of San Francisco, eight miles from the fault, is directly con- 
nected with the fact that much of the ground there is artificial, the area 
having been reclaimed from the bay by filling in with sand and other 
materials. The severity of the disaster at San Jose, twelve miles from 
the fault, has been ascribed to the deep alluvial soil on which the town 
stands, and many other local peculiarities seem to admit of the same 
explanation. It is necessary also to distinguish carefully between earth- 
quake intensity and destructive effect, because injury to property was 
conditioned by mode and material of construction no less than by in- 
tensity of vibration. But after making due allowance for differences 
in natural foundation and for differences in the resisting power of 
buildings, there remain various anomalies for which satisfactory expla- 
nation has not as yet been found. The natural foundation of Oakland 
is similar to that of San Jose, and its distance from the earthquake 




Fig. 12. Water Tank thrown from its Pedestal by the Earthquake. 

Fig. 13. School-house at Point Reyes Station, nearInve rness; shifted horizontally two 
and one-half feet by the earthquake. The corner here shown was slipped from the foundation 
and rests directly on the ground. 



origin is about the same, but the injury to its buildings was decidedly 
less; and Santa Rosa, standing on ground apparently firmer than that 
at Oakland or San Jose and having a somewhat greater distance from 
the fault, was nevertheless shaken with extreme violence. 

It is too early to discuss these anomalies. With the data now in 
hand it seems to be true that there are outlying tracts of high intensity 
surrounded by areas of relatively low intensity; and these features, if 
they shall be fully established, will doubtless affect in some important 
way the general theory of the earthquake. 

One of the chief uses of time observations in connection with most 
earthquakes has been to determine the position of the origin. As the 
elastic wave travels outward in all directions from the initial point it 
reaches successively points on the earth's surface which are more and 
more remote. Coseismal lines, or lines of simultaneous arrival, are, 
therefore, closed curves circling about the region of the initial fracture. 
In the case of the San Francisco earthquake this particular function 
of the coseismals is not required, because the fracture is visible at the 
surface ; but they are not therefore without value. It is not to be sup- 
posed that the yielding of the earth occurred at the same instant 
throughout the entire extent of the fault plane. We should assume, 
rather, that the fracture, beginning at some point, was extended thence 
to the remainder of the tract, a certain amount of time being consumed 
in its propagation. When the time data have been collected and 
studied, it may be possible to determine at what point the fracture 
began and at what rate it was extended. It is hoped also that when 
the time records and intensity records shall have been systematically 
discussed there may result some conclusion as to the depth to which 
the fault extended and also as to its subterranean form. 

Mention has already been made of the question whether the perma- 
nent dislocation or change of absolute position involved in the faulting 
was divided between the tracts of land on the two sides or was con- 
fined to one or the other of them. At first sight it would appear that 
the only thing susceptible of actual determination is the relative dis- 
placement, and that the absolute displacement, or the real movement 
with reference to the earth as a whole, must remain a matter of theory 
only. Nevertheless, it happens that in this particular instance the 
real changes in geographic position are not only susceptible of deter- 
mination, but are actually to be investigated. To illustrate the prob- 
lem, let XY represent, in ground plan, a portion of the fault line, and 
let ABB'C be the original position of a straight line intersected by the 
fault. Assuming for the moment that the dislocation was equal on 
the two sides of the fault, then the line AB was carried to the position 
DE, and the line B'C to the position FG. We may think of the dis- 
tances BE and B'F as each equal to five feet. The dislocation of five 


feet pertains to every point near the fault line, but it is not supposable 
that the same dislocation affects points at a great distance from the 
fault. At some remote point, for example Z , in the direction B'C, 
there was no displacement. If B'C and FG were both produced in that 
direction they would be found not precisely parallel, but would eventu- 
ally coalesce. How far the undisturbed region Z may be from the 
fault line is a matter of pure conjecture, but we may plausibly assume 
that the transverse dimension of the 
area affected by the displacement 
is of the same order of magnitude as 
the length of the fault line and is 
measured by hundreds of miles. If 
this assumption is correct, then 
throughout a great region in central 
and northern California all points 
have experienced a change in geo- 
graphic position, the change in the 
vicinity of the fault being of about 



five feet and the amount diminish- fig. 14. diagrammatic plan of a 

-, ,1 ,-, t n Portion of the Earthquake Fault, illus- 

ing toward the northeast and south- trating changes in geographic position . 

west. If the only determinations 

of latitude and longitude within this area were of the ordinary approxi- 
mate character, it would be impossible to measure the changes in geo- 
graphic position theoretically accomplished by the fault; but it fortu- 
nately happens that the region is traversed by two belts of the tri- 
angulation of the United States Coast and Geodetic Survey, one being 
a system of triangles for the control of the coastal map work, and the 
other the elaborately measured transcontinental belt. The region thus 
contains several scores of points whose coordinates have been deter- 
mined with a high degree of precision, and it is possible by the rede- 
termination of these positions to measure the dislocations which have 
taken place in connection with the earthquake. As all topographic and 
hydrographic maps of California are dependent for their latitudes and 
longitudes upon the positions given by this triangulation, and as there 
is reason to believe that many of these positions have been disturbed 
by a measurable amount, the superintendent of the Coast Survey has 
determined to repeat so much of the work of triangulation as may be 
necessary in order to redetermine the geographic positions. And it is 
proposed to carry this work far enough eastward to connect the rede- 
termined points with stations that may safely be regarded as quite 
beyond the effect of the recent fault. When this has been accomplished 
much light will be thrown on the nature and distribution of the strains 
which were relieved by the dislocation along the fault line, and it will 

VOL. LXIX. — 8. 


be possible to say definitely whether the original displacement involved 
the territory on both sides of the fanlt or on one side only. 

A further cheek is to be afforded through the observations for as- 
tronomic latitude at Ukiah. The observatory at Ukiah is between 
25 and 30 miles in a direct line northeast of the fault. In connection 
with the general dislocation it was presumably moved toward the south- 
east and its latitude diminished by several hundredths of a second. 
This is one of an international series of observatories established in 
approximately the same latitude but in different longitudes, for the 
purpose of determining variations in the position of the earth's axis 
of rotation. If the observations at Ukiah were studied, alone it might 
not be possible to separate the result of a small change in the observa- 
tory's position from the effects of the migration of the axis; but by 
combining the Ukiah data with those furnished by the other observa- 
tories of the system, it is probable that the effects of the two causes can 
be discriminated. 

The most important practical results of the various earthquake 
studies will probably be afforded by the engineers and architects, and 
will lead to the construction of safer buildings in all parts of the 
country specially liable to earthquakes; but the geologic studies of the 
State Commission are not devoid of economic bearings. In the city of 
San Francisco and adjacent parts of the peninsula on which it stands 
the underlying formations include several distinct types, and the dis- 
trict is so generally occupied by buildings that the relations of the 
several formations to earthquake injury can readily be studied. Such 
a study is being made with care and thoroughness, and one of its results 
will be a map of the city showing the relation of the isoseismals, or 
lines marking grades of intensity, to tracts of solid rock, to tracts of 
dune sand in its natural position, to upland hollows partially filled by 
grading, and to old swamps, lagoons and tidal marshes that have been 
converted into dry land by extensive artificial deposits. The informa- 
tion contained in such a map should guide the reconstruction and 
future expansion of the city, not by determining the avoidance of 
unfavorable sites, but by showing in what areas exceptional precau- 
tions are needed, and what areas demand only ordinary precautions. 

Another economic subject to which the commission may be expected 
to give attention is what might be called the earthquake outlook. Must 
the citizens of San Francisco and the bay district face the danger of 
experiencing within a few generations a shock equal to or even greater 
than the one to which they have just been subjected? Or have they 
earned by their recent calamity a long immunity from violent dis- 
turbance? If these questions could be answered in an authoritative 
way, or if a forecast could be made with a fair degree of probability, 
much good might result; and even if nothing more shall be possible 


than a cautious discussion of the data, I believe such a discussion should 
be undertaken and published. Of snap judgments there lias been no 
lack, and the California press lias catered to a natural desire of the 
commercial public for an optimistic view; hut no opinion has yet heen 
fortified by an adequate statement of the pertinent facts. Among these 
facts are the distribution of earthquake shocks as to locality, time and 
severity in California, and also in the well-studied earthquake district 
of Japan; the relation of the slipping that has just occurred to the 
geologic structure of the coast region; the relation of other fault lines 
to the hay district ; and the relation of the recent shock to a destructive 
shock that occurred in 1868. If a broad and candid review of the 
facts shall give warrant for a forecast of practical immunity, the deep- 
rooted anxiety of the community will find therein a measure of relief. 
If a forecast of immunity shall not he warranted, the public should 
have the henefit of that information, to the end that it shall fully heed' 
the counsel of those who maintain that the new city should he earth- 
quake-proof. In any case, timidity will cause some to remove from 
the shaken district and will deter others who were contemplating immi- 
gration; but such considerations have only temporary influence and 
can not check in an important way the growth of the city. The destiny 
of San Francisco depends on the capacity and security of its harbor, 
on the wealth of the country behind it, and on its geographic relation 
to the commerce of the Pacific. Whatever the earthquake danger may 
he, it is a thing to be dealt with on the ground by skillful engineering, 
not avoided by flight: and the proper basis for all protective measures 
is the fullest possible information as to the extent and character of 
the danser. 



By Dr. L. A. BAUER 


HPHE San Francisco earthquake was one of several large earth- 
-*- quakes recorded the world over since the beginning of this year. 
The writer's prime interest in it as a magnetician is in the record it 
left behind on the magnetographs at various magnetic observatories of 
the United States Coast and Geodetic Survey. 

It has happened several times within the last few years that earth- 
quakes have occurred in this country which were not recorded for one 
reason or another, on the existing seismographs, but were indicated by 
the record of certain magnetographs. The most notable instance was 
the New England earthquake of March 21, 1904, at about eight minutes 
after one o'clock in the morning, eastern time. Seismographs of the 
Milne type at Toronto, Canada, and Baltimore, Maryland, and of the 
Bosch-Omori type at the Weather Bureau, Washington, D. C, failed to 
give any record of this earthquake, which was appreciably felt through- 
out the New England States. The magnetograph at the observatory, 
Cheltenham, Maryland, sixteen miles southeast of Washington, gave a 
distinct record at l h 05 s to l h lT m eastern time. So there have been 
a number of earthquakes recorded by the magnetograph at Baldwin, 
Kansas, which were felt in the middle states and reported in the papers. 
In fact, at this observatory, situated in a region where felt and unfelt 
local and regional earthquakes are comparatively frequent — note for 
example the many recent occurrences — more records of earthquakes are 
obtained on the magnetograph than at any of the other magnetic ob- 

This repeatedly authenticated fact made desirable a concurrent 
study of seismograph and magnetograph records and hence seismo- 
graphs have been installed within the last two years at all of the 
magnetic observatories excepting at Baldwin, Kansas, which was 
omitted because of its probable early removal on account of the pos- 
sibility of disturbing influences from electric-car lines. So it happens 
that the Coast and Geodetic Survey is able at present to contribute the 
principal portion of the accurate observational data of earthquakes 
obtained in this country. It was with the expectation that magnetic 
observatories would also be excellent stations for the installation of 



seismological instruments that the writer, while attending the Seventh 
International Geographic Congress at Berlin, 1899, as a delegate from 
the Xational Geographic Society, was made a member of the Pro- 
visional Committee of the International Seismological Association, just 
organized by the congress. 

The instrumental seismological data referring to the recent San 
Francisco earthquake will be contributed from the following stations 
in Canada and the United States: 

Table 1. List of Stations and Institutions in Canada and 
the United States Contributing Seismological Data. 






Meteorological Service. 

State Geological Survey. 
Johns Hopkins University. 
U. S. Weather Bureau. 

U. S. Coast and Geodetic Survey. 

(« (t u (i <i 

(I (( it n t< 
it (< u II li 

11 11 it 11 11 

University of California. 
Lick Observatory, U. of C. 
Philippine Weather Bureau. 


1 1 




11 u 

(i a 


1 1 






V ieques. 





/ Adie and 

\ Eschenhagen. 


1 1 


Mt. Hamilton. 



The exceedingly sparse distribution of seismological stations in this 
country is made apparent by this list, there being none in the middle 
portion of the United States, where, as already stated, regional earth- 
quakes are comparatively frequent. It is therefore fortunate in the 
study of the San Francisco earthquake that we may have recourse also 
to the data afforded by magnetographs, especially by those at Baldwin, 
Kansas, and Sitka, Alaska — the nearest magnetic observatories to the 
origin of the quake and situated, as will be seen from Table 3, at 
about the same distance from San Francisco. So also is it a fortunate 
circumstance that we have both magnetograph and seismograph data 
from the two magnetic observatories, Honolulu and Cheltenham, 
which are also practically equidistant from the origin. 

Xow a peculiar circumstance is that this earthquake, while giving 
a record on the seismograph at the Porto Eico Magnetic Observatory 
so large as not to be fully recorded, left no trace behind on a magneto- 
graph of the very same pattern as at the other observatories. On the 

1 A Bosch-Omori seismograph procured for this observatory was temporarily 
installed at Baltimore by Professor H. F. Reid for a comparative study with 
his Milne seismograph. 


other hand, the equally large earthquake of January 31, last, the 
origin of which was at sea off the west coast of Ecuador, besides record- 
ing itself on seismographs the world over was recorded on the mag- 
netographs at Baldwin, Porto Rico and Cheltenham, but this time not 
at Honolulu. This seaquake was accompanied by a tidal wave twenty 
feet high which rushed in on the coast of Ecuador, causing great de- 
vastation; it set the Pacific Ocean in vibration, which according to the 
tide-gauge records of the Coast and Geodetic Survey at San Diego and 
Honolulu lasted for three days. The tidal wave, when it rushed in on 
the Hawaiian coasts, was several feet high, and the record of this quake 
of January 31, as recorded on the Milne seismograph at the Honolulu 
Magnetic Observatory, was among the largest since the installation of 
the instrument, September, 1903, and yet the delicately suspended 
magnets, as far as the magnetic records at this observatory would 
indicate, were not affected. 

Why is it that an earthquake will at times be recorded by magnetic 
instruments and at other times leave no record? Or, to go back to 
the fundamental question, what do the magnetic instruments record — 
an actual mechanical effect due to the mechanical vibration of the point 
of support ? If the observed effect is a purely mechanical one, then 
why is it that not every mechanical disturbance is recorded on the 
photographic records of the fluctuations of the magnetic needles? 
What is the characteristic of the mechanical vibration, the presence or 
absence of which in the earth movements is responsible for the presence 
or absence of the effect recorded by magnetic needles? 

The solution of these questions may show the magnetograph to be 
a most useful adjunct to the present instrumental equipment for re- 
cording earth movements. 

Is the possibility of any actual magnetic effect accompanying an 
earthquake entirely to be excluded? If so, in the case of the distant 
earthquakes, as seems probable, is the possibility also to be excluded 
for the less distant ones, or say for stations within a certain prescribed 
region about the origin of the quake? Are those cases where records 
are secured on magnet ographs and not on seismographs to be attributed 
possibly to such a magnetic effect which has no influence on instruments 
responding merely to mechanical vibration? Or is it possible that the 
magnetograph is in certain cases a better micro-seismograph than the 
Milne or Bosch-Omori instruments used in this country? 

We have thus some extremely interesting questions presented to us 
which, however they may be solved, will be a valuable contribution to 
our knowledge of earth movements. The possibility might also be 
mentioned that an approaching earthquake might through electric or 
magnetic effects give the first indication on magnetographs because of 
the much greater velocity of propagation of such effects than that 


of the mechanical vibrations. We know that a magnet subjected to 

strain undergoes changes in its magnetization and so the question 
arises whether the earth's magnetized rocks may not likewise give some 
indication of their state of strain during an earthquake by slight 
magnetic fluctuations. Or, an earthquake may be accompanied by a 
redistribution of the magnetic rocks or of the electric earth-currents 
known to exist, and thus give rise to a possible magnetic effect. 

Enough has been said to show that a careful and exhaustive in- 
vestigation of seismic effects recorded on magnetographs is certainly 
one that merits undertaking. The Department of Terrestrial Magnet- 
ism of the Carnegie Institution of Washington, in connection with the 
study of the magnetic effect, recorded simultaneously over the entire 
dobe coincident with the outbreak of Mt. Pele, on May 8, 1902, is 
making a systematic study of the volcanic and seismic effects recorded 
by magnetic instruments with the .cooperation of the Coast and Geo- 
detic Survey and of the Canadian Meteorological Service. A paper by 
Mr. J. E. Burbank, published in Vol. X., p. 113, of the journal, 
Terrestrial Magnetism, brought the investigation up to the time of the 
installation of the seismographs at the Coast and Geodetic Survey 
Observatories two to three years ago ; a second paper, to be published in 
the course of the year, will continue the research as based upon seismic 
and magnetic instruments in operation at the same observatory. 

It had been noticed for some time that magnetic instruments re- 
sponded to certain earthquakes, but the cases noted were of such a 
class as to convey the first impression at once that the effects recorded 
were mechanical ones. Milne in 1898 made quite an exhaustive in- 
vestigation of this class of effects for the whole earth and covering the 
period from 1889 to 1897. He likewise found that these effects were 
not invariably recorded at every magnetic observatory. He considered 
the results inconclusive and deemed it necessary to await the time when 
both seismograph and magnetograph records could be had at the same 
place. A recent notable contribution to the subject based on magnetic 
records at one observatory, without, however, at the same time cor- 
responding -seismological data, has been made by Dr. Messerschmitt, in 
charge of the Munich Magnetic Observatory. 

Previous magneticians, such as Eschenhagen, Wild and Liznar, had 
found that from a comparison of the effects recorded on magnetographs 
at various European observatories the effects, in certain notable earth- 
quakes, progressed from station to station with the velocity of about 
three kilometers i. e. the rate of propagation of the long or surface 
seismic waves. This measurable difference in time between any two 
stations and its correspondence with the time interval required for the 
transmission of the surface waves was a very good indication that a 
purely mechanical effect had been recorded and not a distant magnetic 



effect, as the latter would have been observed simultaneously at all 
stations. Or, if it was a magnetic effect, then in each case it was 
clue to one of the possible local causes enumerated brought into action 
upon the arrival of the mechanical disturbance at the particular station. 

In our study, however, it has been possible to differentiate much 
more closely and at times to separate the effects on the magnetic records 
into the various phases — preliminary tremors and principal portions, 
etc. — in a manner analogous to usual treatment of the seismograph 
records. A notable instance was the destructive Guatemalan earth- 
quake of April 19, 1902, which, as may be recalled, preceded the 
Antillean volcanic eruptions of that period. At that time there were no 
seismographs at the Coast and Cleodetic Survey Magnetic Observa- 
tories; however, an inspection of the table below will show that with 
the records obtained on the magnetographs at Cheltenham, Baldwin, 
Sitka and Honolulu (the Porto Kico Observatory did not then exist), it 
is possible to study the seismic effects on them — even down to the 
preliminary tremors — equally as well as on the seismic records obtained 
at Baltimore, Toronto and Victoria. The earliest notice of this earth- 
quake was received at Baldwin, the nearest station to the origin — 
Guatemala. Here then we have a notable case where the magnets 
were affected by even the preliminary seismic tremors, this being a 
different, case from the European ones cited above, as these tremors 
travel with a velocity of about nine kilometers or more per second. 

There have been many other similar instances and it has even 
occurred at times that the magnetic instruments have given a slightly 

Table 2. Seismograph and Magnetograph Becords of 
the Guatemala Earthquake, April 18, 1902. 


W. of 

Greenwich Mean Time. 





52 • 




> . 

OS r- 




E-i cS 






o U 

o F 
o M 


o / 

39 18 
38 44 

II a 

<i a 
a a 
(( it 

43 40 

38 47 

it (< 

48 27 
57 03 

o / 

76 37 
76 50 

a a 

U It 

it (< 

(i it 

79 23 

it u 

123 22 

135 20 
u (i 

158 04 

h m 
2 30.1 
2 30.4 

h m 
2 35.6 

h m 
2 40.3 
2 31.0 
2 31.6 
2 40.5 
2 48.4 
2 42.3 
2 38.0 
2 34.6 
2 34.8 
2 50.7 
2 59.6 

h m 
5 30 
2 57 
2 55 

2 59 

3 00 
2 58 
5 24 
2 57 

2 53 
5 36 

3 05 
2 49 
2 39 
2 35 

Milne seismograph. 

Eschenhagen magnetograph. 
(< tt 


(> it 

it (I 

Milne seismograph. 
Eschenhagen magnetograph. 

it a 

Milne seismograph. 
Eschenhagen magnetograph. 

it it 

n 1 1 


Hor. In. 


2 30.4 




> it 


2 33.2 
2 29.0 
2 29.0 
2 30.5 
2 24.6 
2 29.1 
2 31.3 
2 40.4 
2 36.8(?) 
2 31.3 
2 31.8 

2 36.7 
2 35.1 
2 40.7 
2 35.5 
2 30.0 
2 31.2 
2 37.2 

Hor. In. 
Hor. In. 
Hor. In 

a an 



21 19 

Hor. In 




earlier record than the seismograph. The effect is such a character- 
istic one that when it has once been recognized it will not be mistaken 
for any ordinary magnetic effect. Four types can be distinguished: 
First, those in which the disturbance begins abruptly and quickly 
reaches a maximum, dying down gradually (usually the case in a 
near-by earthquake) ; second, those in which a small preliminary effect 
precedes the principal portion, and in which there are often two or 
more maxima; third — by far the most common — those consisting of 
a small diamond-shaped' disturbance; and fourth, those in which the 
trace is simply blurred and broadened. 

With these introductory statements as to the possible relation be- 
tween seismology and terrestrial magnetism, let us now pass to the 
consideration of the recent San Francisco earthquake. 

Table 3 contains the results of the records obtained up to date 
(May 17) at the office of the Coast and Geodetic Survey, both from 
magnetographs and from seismographs. It will be seen that the region 
embraced extends from Honolulu on the west to Hungary on the east, or 
about one third the way around the globe. All necessary data, such as 
latitude, longitude, distances from San Francisco along the surface, 
as well as along chord, chord depth, etc., etc., are found in the table. 

Xext are given the Greenwich mean times (0 to 24 hours, midnight 
to midnight) of the occurrence of the various phases of the seismic dis- 
turbance as recorded on the seismographs. For the preliminary 
tremors, phase I (longitudinal waves), next phase II (transverse 
waves), then principal portion (surface waves), etc., etc. It is par- 
ticularly interesting to compare the times for Cheltenham, Washington 
and Baltimore and to note how closely they agree. Owing to the slight 
difference in distance of these three different stations from San Fran- 
cisco the times should not of course be strictly the same, though the 
difference should not be more than a few seconds. Considering the 
totally different types of instrument (Milne at Baltimore and Bosch- 
Omori at Washington and Cheltenham), certainly the comparison is 
very satisfactory. 

It will be seen that the preliminary tremors were recorded by the 
seismographs at Honolulu and Cheltenham at about the same time, 
these two stations being at about the same distance from San Fran- 
cisco. The reader will follow without assistance the progression of the 
various waves from station to station as given in the table. [Since this 
table was prepared many more records have been obtained which are 
of interest, notably the seismograph and the magnetograph records 
from the Toronto Magnetic Observatory.] 

In Fig. 1 we have a reproduction of the seismograph record ob- 
tained at the Cheltenham Magnetic Observatory. The recording cylin- 
der of the Bosch-Omori seismograph, around which is wrapped the 





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smoked sheet of paper on which the record is made, makes one com- 
plete revolution in an hour, each sheet whether of the X.-S. or of the 
K.-W. component containing a whole day's record (24 lines). The 
distance between two of the dots represents one minute. In order to 
get a convenient size for the figure, it was necessary to omit about 
one third of the total length of the sheet, so that the distance from 
S. to S. or E. to E. represents about two thirds of an hour. On the 
original, the pointer or the recording stylus multiplies the motion ten 
times, hence in the reproduction the magnification is about three times. 
The maximum amplitude of motion was not recorded, the pointer stri- 
king the damping brushes. In deducing the actual displacement of an 
earth-particle at Cheltenham, it is necessary to take into account the 
period of the pendulum which for the X.-S. component was about 25 
seconds and for the E.-YV. component about 20 seconds and the period 
of the recorded earth-movement about 2 to -f seconds for the preliminary 
tremors and aboitt 10 to 20 seconds for the principal portion. A rough 
calculation would give the total recorded horizontal displacement of 
the earth-particle, back and forth, of about 1/5 of an inch, which on 
account of the comparatively long period would not be felt by the 
human being. These explanations will doubtless be sufficient for the 
elucidation of the figure; for a description of the instrument the reader 
is referred to Dutton: ' Earthquakes.' 

Passing next to the times recorded by the magnetograph (D stands 
for declination, H for horizontal intensity and Z for vertical intensity ) , 
it is seen that the effect in this instance did not begin at the four 
observatories where a record was obtained — Honolulu, Sitka, Baldwin 
and Cheltenham — until the arrival of the principal portion (long or 
surface waves) recorded on the seismographs, and that for this phase 
the agreement between seismograph and magnetograph is most satis- 
factory. It will also be noted that the time at Baldwin is inter- 
mediate between San Francisco and Cheltenham, so that the record of 
this observatory is a most desirable acquisition. Xote also that the 
time is nearly the same as at Sitka, Baldwin being just a trifle farther 
from San Francisco than Sitka. 

Xext are found in the table the velocities of the various transverse 
waves — longitudinal, transverse and surface — computed along the 
paths indicated in the column on the extreme right. For the region 
embraced it will be seen that the longitudinal waves, which were the 
first to arrive, traveled at an average velocity of six miles per second, 
the transverse waves at an average velocity of 3V. miles, whereas 
the surface waves had a velocity of about 2 1/3 miles per second 
according to seismograph and magnetograph. It takes about 3 hours 
and 20 minutes for these waves to pass around the earth completely, 
whereas the preliminary tremors, phase I (longitudinal waves) reach 

I 24 




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a point on the opposite side of the earth from the origin in about 
20 minutes; the latter are supposed to pass directly through the earth. 
In computing the velocities I have taken provisionally as the average 

Hor Intens 

Hoi: In fens 

Vert\ Intens. 


April 18 


Vert. Intens. 



Fig. 2. Record of the San Francisco Earthquake on the Eschenhagen Magneto- 
graph at the Magnetic Observatory, Cheltenham, Maryland, reduced 2 times. [The hours as 
marked are approximately local mean time. The earthquake effect will be noti ed on the 
three magnetic elements, horizontal intensity, declination and vertical intensity in the shape 
of a trumpet formation between 8 and 9 a. m., local mean time. The range or double ampli- 
tude of the disturbance was about 1,1000 part of the horizontal intensity and about 1 3000 part ot 
the vertical intensity. On account of the intersecting of the curves, the range in the magnetic 
declination cannot be given.] 

time of the shocks on the Pacific Coast which gave rise to the effects 
recorded at distant places as occurring at 5 h 12 m Pacific time or 
13 h 12 m , April 18, Greenwich time. There may have been earlier 
preliminary shocks. 2 

2 Professor George Davidson, of the University of California, determined 
the time of first shock at his home in San Francisco by counting the number 
of seconds it took him upon awakening and going to his watch and noting the 
time. Owing to his large experience in the work of the U. S. Coast and Geodetic 
Survey, the time which he gives he deems to be correct within two seconds, 
via., 5: 12: 00 Pacific time. 

Professor A. O. Leuschner, of the University of California, according to his 
article in the Berkeley Reporter, of Berkeley, Gal., April 20, 1906, says: 4 " The 
best record of the beginning of the heaviest shocks is furnished by the standard 
clock of the Student Observatory, which stopped at 5 b 12 m 38 s Pacific standard 
time, while less severe shocks were recorded by Mr. S. Albrecht some 35 seconds 
earlier. The principal part of the earthquake came in two sections, the first 
series of vibrations lasting about 40 seconds. The vibration diminished con- 
siderably during the following 10 seconds and then continued with renewed 
vigor for about 25 seconds more. But even at this writing, about noon, the 
disturbance has not as yet subsided, as slight shocks are being recorded at 
frequent intervals on the Ewing seismograph, which has been restored to working 
order. [This seismograph was thrown out of action at the beginning of the 
earthquake; however, a fairly complete record was obtained with the duplex 
instrument.] The principal direction of motion was from south-southeast to 


The amplification of this table to embrace the entire earth will be 
left to Professor Harry F. Keid, a member of the San Francisco 
Earthquake Commission. 

Why is it that in this severe earthquake the magnets responded 
only to the long or surface waves and not to the preliminary tremors, 
and why did the magnets at Porto Eico give no record at all? These 
are the questions which I believe to be of concern not alone to the 
magnetician, but also to the seismologist and to the student of geo- 
physics in general. Of the many earthquake records already obtained, 
there are a large number where the disturbance on the seismograph was 
considerably smaller than the San Francisco one and yet the magneto- 
graph responded to even the preliminary effects. Evidently we must 
be getting a record of something on the magnetograph, not immediately 
evident from the present seismograph records, which causes this 
peculiar differentiation of seismic disturbances into the following 
classes: (a) recorded by seismograph and not by the most delicate 
magnetograph, (b) recorded by magnetograph and not recorded by 
seismograph, (c) recorded by seismographs and magnetographs 
partially (surface waves), (d) recorded completely by seismographs 
and magnetographs. 

My present belief is that the effects recorded by suspended magnets 
are chiefly mechanical ones due to the vibrating motion of the points 
of support, though the possibility of a magnetic effect within a certain 
prescribed region of the origin of the earthquake, brought about as 
above explained, is not to be excluded. It is a notable fact that at 
the Baldwin Magnetic Observatory, where, as stated, so many seismic 
effects are being detected which are to be associated with the com- 
paratively local earthquakes in the Middle States and which fail to 
make any record on seismographs as far distant as Washington, the 
effects corresponding in time to lightning discharges have also been 
found which in many instances resemble very closely the seismic effects. 

In the case of the San Francisco earthquake, however, there can 
apparently be no question that what was recorded by the magnetographs 
was a mechanical effect (see Fig. 2). It is a matter of interest to note 

north-northwest. The remarkable feature of this earthquake aside from its 
intensity was its rotary motion. The sum total of all displacements represents 
a very regular ellipse and some of the lines representing the earth's motion 
can be traced along the whole circumference." From this we deduce the time 
of the first shock 5:12:03. 

At the Lick Observatory the first shock was recorded at 5:12:12. 

At the Ukiah Latitude Observatory the first shock was recorded according 
to Dr. Townley at 5:13, correct within two or three seconds. 

At Eureka, California, the first shock as reported to Professor Davidson 
was noted on a regulator owned by H. H. Buhne, who was awake at the time 
at 5:11. 

As it is likely that the epicenter was somewhat west of San Francisco, but 
at no considerable distance, owing to absence of tidal waves, it is probable 
that the average time of the shocks at the origin which produced the records 
at the distant observatories was not far from 13" 12'", Greenwich mean time, 
which is at present adopted. L. A. B. 


thai at Baldwin there was a Blight actual magnetic effect 3-4 hours 
before the shock was felt at San Francisco, to which no counterpart 
has yet been found on the Cheltenham records, indicating that this 
effect observed at Baldwin was not a cosmic one, but was due to some 
local circumstances. To associate' it with the San Francisco earth- 
quake is not at present warranted. 

Owing to the optical arrangement of the magnetograph, in order 
to produce an effect which will be evident on the recording sheet, it is 
necessary to have a turning movement of the suspended magnet. Any 
parallel displacement of the magnet — sidewise or up and down — will 
give no observable effect, an actual turning or rotary movement of the 
magnet must take place and for this purpose a turning couple must in 
some manner be introduced. Such a couple is produced when the 
magnet is drawn out of its normal direction with the aid of a bit of 
iron which is then quickly removed ; the earth immediately acts on 
the magnet with equal and opposite forces applied near the extremities. 
and after performing a number of vibrations about its mean position 
the magnet settles down and then takes up the course pursued before 
the artificial disturbance. The effect thus produced is very similar to 
some of the earthquake effects. Were an earthquake accompanied by 
the generation of magnetic forces, the explanation of the observed 
effects would thus be very simple. 

When the seismic motion is such as to produce a tilting or rocking 
of the support, it can readily be shown that because the suspended 
mass is a magnet, a turning couple is brought into play by the earth's 
magnetism causing the rotary, vibratory motion of the magnet about 
its mean position. Were the suspended material a non-magnetic mass 
of sufficient weight, no such turning would take place, but the mass 
would act more or less as a ' steady point.' However, it is quite pos- 
sible that with the very light magnets weighing but i/o gram, and 
short suspensions used, we may also have to deal with a form of 
pendulum seismograph, in which the period of the pendulum is suf- 
ficiently small as to more readily respond to certain micro-seismic 
motions than either type of instrument at present in use in this country. 

It would seem therefore that seismologists might be assisted in the 
solution of some of the problems as to the precise character of the earth 
movements recorded on seismographs by a careful study of the seismic 
effects recorded on magnetographs, especially if the effects both in the 
horizontal and in the vertical plane be considered, and if furthermore 
the record be obtained on a more open time scale, so as to be com- 
parable in this respect with the best seismograms. 

Whether the San Francisco earthquake caused a change in the dis- 
tribution of the earth's magnetism within the affected region is at 
present under investigation. 




Smithsonian Institution. 

OF the human flood which poured over the Chilkoot crest and inun- 
dated the drainage hasin of the Yukon in the last years of the 
nineteenth century, Elizabeth Robins, Joaquin Miller and Jack London 
have given lurid pictures. The thirst for gold drew miners from every 
western camp, gamblers from every slum, dreamers from three conti- 
nents, and human parasites from the whole round world. Ignorant of 
the climatic conditions, unprepared for the vicissitudes of life in the 
north, often burdened with preposterous machinery, unsuitable equip- 
ment and impossible loads — this motley horde invaded the Yukon terri- 
tory in quest of fortune. With thousands exhaustion, exposure, disap- 
pointment, fear and panic dealt harshly in the end. 

The interplay of human passions among those stripped thus of every 
conventionality offered an unrivaled opportunity to the observer. 
Greed, fear, suspicion, cruelty and selfishness revealed themselves, on 
occasion, as vividly as did the contrasted courage, kindliness, self-denial 
and heroic endurance of the nobler souls. On the just and the unjust, 
the strong and the weak, the coward and the courageous, indiscrimi- 
nately, played the natural forces. The soft, white, clogging snow, the 
stinging cold, the searching wind, the claims of appetite — none might 

What with the fight for mere existence, the struggle for a paying 
location, the fitful gleaming of hope, fear, realization and disappoint- 
ment, few in all that seething multitude may have had eyes for the 
beauty, the solemnity, the poetry of that wild north land. For most 
of them memory would picture the weary monotony of the trail, the 
buffeting of wind and snow, the penetrating rigor of the cold. These 
things so bit into their experience that all other impressions would 
seem trivial. Upon these factors fiction and romance would lean for 
local color, until, in the course of years, they would become to the 
average man essentially typical of the Yukon country. Under these 
conditions it seems possibly worth while, for one of the few who visited 
the Yukon region in its virgin prime, to put on record some of the 
impressions which it left upon his memory. 

Like most great waterways, the Yukon itself has carved its kingdom 
out from the rude husk of mother earth. Before man was, its waters 


flowed in much their present channels. At times their flood was 
mighty, comparable only with such streams as Amazon and Nilus. 
Once its waters reflected the foliage of oak and plane-tree; the fig and 
the tulip tree flourished on its banks and the heights beyond were dark 
with forests of Sequoia. Later, its soft alluvial flats trembled under 
the ponderous tread of the hairy mammoth, while the wild horse grazed 
upon its verdant savannas. The bison knew its prairieland and the 
mazama its foothills. With the wane of the Age of Ice the musk-ox 
sought pasturage upon the Yukon tundra. 

Strangely enough, during the height of the great Ice Age when the 
northeastern part of the continent as well as southern Alaska were 
buried deep under a continental ice-sheet, the greater part of the 
Yukon basin remained open to the sun. The traces of the glaciers are 
plain to see, about its head waters, on the Alaskan mountains to the 
south and the Yukon mountains to the north, but the terminal moraines 
are there to show where the deadly creeping of the ice was stayed, far 
above the present valley. During this time, perhaps, the muddy tor- 
rents bore to the river and the sea the alluvium which now composes the 
vast delta of the Yukon and the submarine flats, covering thousands of 
square miles, which are the characteristic feature of the eastern half of 
Bering Sea. With the shrinking of the glacier-sheet vast floods of 
water were let loose upon the alluvium of the lowlands, gradually 
shaping the features of the valley, concentrating the metallic contents 
of the gravels, and hurrying seaward the ' mountain meal ' or im- 
palpable white silt of the glacial grist. 

From the volcanic craters of the mountain ranges to the south and 
west fine white ashes on one occasion poured in such volume as to cover 
the ground with a fleecy blanket, several feet thick, for many hundred 
square miles. Though covered by later accretions, this continuous layer 
of white ashes may still be traced for many leagues along the steep 
bluffs of the right bank of the river where it is under-cut by the current. 

As the glaciers receded, the water supply became less profuse, the 
river settled between its banks, while the flats and prairies were invaded 
by willow and poplar, birch and spruce. The flora of the north, delicate 
and abundant, spread over the land, followed by the bee and the butter- 
fly. Singing birds found nesting places, and with them all the small 
wild things which populate the wilderness, to gather sustenance from 
seed or berry, or seek refuge from the fox or hawk. And so at last the 
valley lay complete as first we knew it. 

A brave domain, well defended, stretching some two thousand miles. 
On the north broad tundras hardly divided by low hills from the in- 
violate Arctic floes where they push upon the low sandy coast. To the 
northwest a turmoil of mountains, with hardly any game, kept off the 
explorer; while to the west, before the flatlands of the delta, lay many 

vol. lxix. — 9 


miles of mudflats and shifting sandbars, with no landmarks to indicate 
the channels of which only the salmon knew the secret. jSTo invader, 
seeking a fairway for his vessel, might find comfort here. On the 
south the mighty rock walls of the Alaskan and St. Elias ranges, 
bristling with splintered crags, between which lurk the unconquered 
remnants of the Glacier Age, confront the would-be intruder. Lastly, 
on the east, mountains alternate with morasses for hundreds of miles; 
with streams unnavigable even by canoes, except at the price of hourly 
portages; tamarack thickets too dense to traverse, standing in bogs too 
soft to afford foothold, *and so populated by black flies and mosquitoes 
as to be abandoned in summer by all the larger animals. Here a little 
band of Hudson Bay voyageurs, bent on reaching the great unknown 
river, some sixty-six years ago, were driven, through desperate starva- 
tion, to the last imaginable horror. Not till MacMurray flanked them 
by descending the Mackenzie far beyond the Arctic circle and forcing 
the Eat Eiver portage to the waters of the Porcupine, were the eastern 
defenses of the valley carried by an explorer. 

Even then, a quarter of a century should pass before the white man 
from the east met his fellow from the west, under the Arctic circle, at 
Port Yukon, and the whole long river should know the stroke of their 
paddles and smoke of their camp-fires. 

When the whites came they but followed on the trails of the Indian, 
whose far progenitors, lost in the mists of time, had penetrated to the 
valley, retreating, as legends tell, from massacre on the south at the 
hands of stronger tribes ; or from starvation on the north, where, beyond 
the fiats of frozen mud, lay only the barren floe. To them the Yukon 
gave of her caribou and salmon, and among her clustered spruce trees 
they found a safe refuge. There they prospered and begat other gen- 
erations, who in the fulness of time came to call themselves Yukoni- 
katana, Men of the Yukon. The ancient feud between Indian and 
Eskimo kept them from the coasts. Thus in a very emphatic sense the 
valley of the Yukon was their world. 

To enter into the Yukon Valley one must scale its watershed or 
advance by the stream itself through the delta. The former was more 
difficult, the latter longer and more monotonous. Creeping along the 
coast in shallow water, one came finally to a branch where a loaded 
sloop might enter, and, by hard pulling against the current, finally gain 
the main channel. After leaving the sea one rowed between steep 
banks, hour after hour, the traveler seeing nothing but muddy water 
and scattered driftwood. If, in desperation, one scrambled to the level 
of the land, one saw on every hand an apparently illimitable plain, 
broken only far to the southeast by a single summit, the isolated peak 
of Kusilvak Mountain, blue in the distance. 

Over the level surface lay scattered the worn and shattered trunks of 


driftwood fibrous with grinding in the ice of the spring freshet and 
stranded by the falling waters. Here and there were small patches of 
herbage growing rankly in the day-long sunlight of the boreal spring- 
time. Everywhere rose the harsh cries of water fowl, hovering over 
their shallow nests hollowed in the warm sand. Ducks, geese and all 
the smaller waders, with here and there a sand-hill crane or snowy 
swan, all busy in the brief domesticity of spring, thronged the flats, 
covered the pools, or rose in dark extended myriads, as far as the eye 
can see. Violent cries and flapping wings called attention to some 
disreputable looking fox, with the rags of his winter coat still hanging 
to him, prowling in search of eggs of nestlings, but valiantly faced by 
the mother birds with loud vociferation. ISTow and then the great 
Arctic hare, looking as big as a deer in the absence of objects of com- 
parison, lopes silently and swiftly between the tufts of succulent 
herbage; or a great black raven croaks hoarsely overhead, watching his 
chance to snap up a downy duckling in the absence of its defenders. 
The sun, low in the heavens, sheds genial warmth over the noisy con- 
gregation, and rich green patches of Mertensia, or forget-me-not, open 
a profusion of blue petals, basking in the radiance. Dotted over the 
sands little yellow poppies stand singly, spreading silky corollas over 
their slender densely hispid stems. A profusion of Saxifrage, Poten- 
tilla, sedge and Claytonia is found on every hand, except where the 
latest freshets have been scouring. Steadily between its low steep banks 
flows the turbid river, dividing into many channels most of which, 
when the floods are over, become dry. 

After days of laborious tracking or rowing the main river may be 
reached. This for hundreds of miles flows steadily, with its current 
mainly hugging the right bank. This, if there be any high land about, 
is high, facing the stream with bold bluffs, which are gradually eaten 
away at the base by the gnawing current. At intervals a vertical slice 
of the bluff cracks, quivers and plunges into the water, carrying with 
it undergrowth and trees, which may remain as dangers to navigation 
or join the fleet of arboreal derelicts steadily moving toward the sea. 

The left bank is usually low, with perhaps a blue line of distant 
hills dimly visible. Islands in the lower river are not numerous, though 
many sand-bars come to light at stages of low water. The scour of the 
river in spate is not favorable to permanent islands. 

Ascending the river to the very center of the Alaskan territory, its 
width is suddenly contracted, its rate of flow increased, while high on 
either hand the banks rise steep and mountainous. This canon re- 
ceived from the Hudson Bay men the picturesque name of ' the Ram- 
parts.' Between the June water level and that of July, at the lower 
end of the canon, there is a difference of seventy feet, and the maximum 
is even greater. 


About one hundred miles of the river are comprised within the Ram- 
parts, which do not rise as rocky walls, but rather as steep sparsely 
wooded slopes, formerly beloved of the mountain sheep. Above the 
Ramparts the river spreads out upon a wide alluvial plain, dividing 
itself amongst innumerable islands. 

Just below the lower end of the canon enters from the south the 
Tanana, Eiver of the Mountain Men, a noble tributary. Here lay 
Nuklukahyet the neutral trading ground for many years. 

On the border of Alaska, just above the Arctic Circle, enters the 
Porcupine River from the northeast, the channel by which MacMurray 
won his way into the Yukon valley in the early forties. Here the great 
river bends to the southeast, enters British territory, and carries its 
navigable waters further nearly five hundred miles. In this stretch 
its hitherto pellucid waters receive the milky flow of the White River, 
glacier-fed, which tinges their flood henceforward, to the sea. 

The Yukon is the highway of all this land. When the frosts of 
October lock the streamlets and choke the outlets of the mountain 
springs, the wide stream is quickly ice-bound. At some points where 
the swifter current ripples, open water still remains, giving out feathery 
streaks of mist to the crisp air. 

Migratory fishes hurry to the sea. Already the water fowl have 
departed. The first snow lies feathery soft amongst the seedling willows 
on the sandbars. The broad sheets of ice on either shore glisten in 
the enfeebled sunlight, and as the river falls, they sink, creaking and 
crashing until the early ice of the shallows lies unevenly on the gravelly 
river-bed. The turbidity of summer lessens and the current flows 
steely-dark along the open spaces. Sharper grows the cold; the heavy 
sun relinquishes more and more of its meridian arc. The skies turn 
gray, and presently comes the snow, steady, silent, soft, incessant, cloth- 
ing the world. 

Deep under the fleecy blanket nestle the little green herbs. The 
field mouse tunnels the drifts where he may roam unseen and nibble 
the sweet bark of the young birches. Stately, silent, vigorous, the 
ptarmigan cock treads pathways amongst the willows, in snow no 
whiter than his plumage. Here the admiring flock may pluck the 
spicy buds to their content, heedless of the fowler's snare, and hardly 
disturbed when the lesser hare, like them snow white, avails himself of 
their convenient runway. 

The red squirrel chirrups in the branches of the spruce, nipping 
off the loaded cones. Around him chirp the winter redbirds, cheeriest 
of residents, while in a neighboring poplar the raucous voice of the 
whisky-jack declares that the world owes him a living. The yellow- 
headed woodpecker hammers busily away on some decaying alder and 
from the steep bluff among the rocks comes with solemn repetition the 
hoarse cry of the raven. 


As the sun sinks early to the horizon the owls call to one another 
and issue from their retreats, whirring softly among the loaded 
branches. The squirrels are safe in their holes, but let the incautious 
snowbird beware, lest he be snatched incontinently from his perch. 
Snake-like the mink in his dark glistening coat winds among the 
willows by the waterside, on murder bent. The petulant bark of the 
dogfox is hushed as he too moves with stealthy tread in search of prey. 
The stars come out, the shadows blacken, hunters and hunted alike are 
still. Save for the musical twang of splitting ice, now and then, along 
the river, a measureless silence descends upon the world. As the cold 
strengthens, in the northern heavens the pale aurora lifts its quivering 

The extreme cold is felt always in still weather. As the wind rises, 
so does the temperature. When sixty-eight below zero of Fahrenheit 
implies a calm, a rise of thirty-eight degrees is probable as the wind 
rises. While it does not often snow at this temperature, the wind may 
carry so much fine loose already-fallen snow along the surface of the 
open tundra or the river that it has the effect of a blinding snow-storm, 
against which nor man nor beast may stand. This is the dreaded 
' poorga ' of the Eussian, the ' blizzard ' of the western prairies. Here 
the ignorant gold seeker, ill-clothed, ill-shod, wearing himself out by 
vain efforts to withstand the forces of nature, often meets his fate. But 
who has heard of a Yukon Indian perishing in a poorga ? The man of 
the Yukon had adapted his dress, his snowshoes, his tools, his move- 
ments, to his surroundings. Like the beasts of the valley, whose skins 
he wore, he knew how to seek or build a shelter which would shield 
him from the blast and keep him safe, even if uncomfortable, until the 
elements wearied of their rage. The humming of the wind in the 
swaying spruces, the rattle of flying bits of ice or dead branches blown 
over the crusted snow, the complaining cry of the hawk-owl as his 
hollow tree quivered under the gusts, all told of the progress of the 
storm to him brought up to listen to and understand the voices of the 

And when at last the storm had spent itself, the traveler came forth 
from his temporary shelter to beat the snow crystals from his garments 
and look upon a world swept clean of litter, sparkling white under the 
winter sunbeams. The grouse from her tunnel in the snowdrift, the 
squirrel from his hollow log, the snowbirds from their retreats beneath 
the half-buried branches of the spruce, all issued forth upon their 
daily sustenance intent. The world was a good world, after all, and 
the singing gale merely a break in its monotony. 

Where the tenderfoot, untrained, undisciplined and terrified, found 
only a demoniac nature striving to overwhelm a shivering victim, 
those to the manner born might feel a power, a majesty, an unswerving 
flight, as of the passing of a messenger of God. 


As the days grow longer, while the trails harden, the deep snow 
settles, bearing a solid crust. There is a mildness in the air and in 
sheltered places little pools form on the ice about midday. The poplar 
buds are swelling. The raven's nest among the rocks of the bluff is 
no longer empty. The river ice whitens though it does not yield. 
Presently the cry of the wild goose is heard, the flocks are returning 
from the. south. The ptarmigan forsakes the willow thickets, and the 
hare retreats from the edge of the river. They know what the creaking 
of the ice portends. The native fish-traps in the channel are dismantled, 
the snow on the beaches disappears. The river ice settles closer to the 
sand-bars; there is slush on the trail to the water-hole. The little 
brooks begin to trickle, and form pools where the grayling makes his 
retreat from the main river. The smaller migrant birds begin to ap- 
pear, the wheatear, the American robin and a host of others, with 
phalaropes and sandpipers. The harlequin ducks arrive in pairs, 
silently making their way up the smaller streams, seeking secluded spots 
for nesting. The first mosquitoes appear, advance guard of the multi- 
tudinous pests of summer. 

As the streams increase in volume the river rises, the ice becomes 
rotten and is lifted from the sand-bars; man and beast seem to wait 
breathless for the ice to go out. The sun pours down with a fervor 
not soon forgotten, though in the shade it is always cool. 

The cry of the brant, northward bound, is continually heard, and 
myriads of smaller water fowl appear on every hand. All the minor 
forms of life, native to the region or migrants from the south, with 
startling suddenness people the copses and pervade the air. Vegetation 
springs into leaf and flower at a bound. The water creeps up on the 
beaches, the ice is shaken by tremors often accompanied by a groan- 
ing sound. 

The tributary streams begin to run bank-high and flood the surface 
of the river ice ; at last the crisis comes with the upriver rise. The ice 
breaks, great cakes are driven high upon the beaches or jam in the 
narrower channels between islands; at last it floods the lowlands; ice, 
debris, and driftwood pour, with a grinding noise, headlong toward 
the sea. Below the Ramparts at least a week goes by before the river 
is free enough from floating ice and broken timber to be navigable, even 
for canoes. With hardly a hint of spring, summer is upon the valley. 
Mosquitoes appear in clouds. Except in midstream or where a brisk 
air is blowing, life without a net and leather gloves is misery. The 
Indians smear their faces with a mixture of grease and charcoal, and 
paddle with a smudge on a square of turf, in the bows of their birch 
canoes. The cribou, moose and bear, driven from the thickets by the 
clouds of insects, plunge into the river for a temporary respite, where 
they are often slain by the hunter in his canoe. Whoso must travel 


Avill be prudent to sleep at noon and utilize the cooler hours when the 
sun sweeps low along the northern horizon and the insects are less 

As the summer ripens the mosquitoes become less troublesome, 
i hough never entirely absent. The strenuous period of the spring floods 
being over, the great river settles down into its normal summer flow. 
Early in July it was the ancient custom for the Yukon Men, the 
Mountain Men from the Tanana Eiver, and sometimes strangers from 
the Upper Yukon or the Koyukon tributary, to meet on a small fiat 
island where the Tanana and Yukon come together. This was the 
neutral ground, Nu-klfik-a-yet' in the Indian tongue. Here no man 
might bring his quarrel, no tribe its feud. The meeting was devoted 
to the peaceful barter of furs, and to festivities where food, the weird 
Indian music and Indian dances, were the rule. 

Many years ago I was fortunate enough to be present at the annual 
meeting. My companion and myself were the first whites to have that 
experience. On arrival, after the usual harangue from the senior 
chief ashore and the spokesman of our party, and several salvos from 
flintlock muskets ashore and the shot guns afloat, we were allowed to 
land and a camping ground designated for us by the master of cere- 
monies, who held his office with dignity. 

Later on shouts announced the arrival of the Mountain Men and 
we hastened to the beach to witness their reception. Dressed in his 
finest array the senior chief stood at the top of the bank, his followers 
all arrayed in their best, standing with loaded muskets ready for the 

Swiftly around the bend in the river came the little fleet of birch 
canoes elegantly fashioned, uniform in length and pattern, each holding 
one man with his bundle of furs and store of provisions. They were 
uniformly dressed in their purely aboriginal costume of dressed deer- 
skin, ornamented with fringes, quill embroidery, and patterns drawn 
in red, derived from a soft argillaceous ore of iron. The trousers were 
continuous with the moccasins, and the upper garment bore a pointed 
skirt or pendant before and behind. Their long hair tied in two locks 
at the side of the head, wound with beads and polished with bear's 
grease, was sprinkled with the chopped up down of swans. Their faces 
were painted with red ochre, every man wore an ornament piercing 
the cartilage of the nose, and a belt of dentalium shell or caribou 
teeth. Their guns lay beside them. With military precision the paddles 
struck the water in unison, the canoes wheeled and came to rest, paddles 
uplifted, a short distance from the beach, while every gun on shore 
boomed its salute. The ceremonies of landing and camping once over, 
the interest felt in meeting these handsome athletic men, who had 
never before seen or been seen by whites, was very great. Although 


they possessed beads, guns and pipes, these had been acquired from 
other tribes acting as middlemen. It is probable that people so little 
touched by our civilization no longer exist in North America. The 
basin of the Tanana is now occupied by a large mining camp with all 
that that implies, and the dignity and glory of the Mountain Men have 

Midsummer brought all dwellers in the valley to the rivers, that the 
winter's supply of salmon might be secured, the real staff of life to 
these people. The banks near the fishing camps were scarlet with long 
lines of fish, split and cleaned, drying in the sun. On the lower river 
the salmon were mostly taken in traps. Sis hundred miles up-stream 
only the larger and stronger species made their way. One of my most 
vivid recollections is of the sight, just after shooting the riffle at the 
lower Ramparts, of a fishing party provided with very large dip nets on 
long poles. The dusk was close upon us and the rank of birch canoes, 
arranged in line transversely to the stream, was already in the shadow 
of the canon. Chanting a weird low chant in perfect time, at a given 
moment the broad nets were simultaneously plunged into the water 
while the frail birches rocked under the strain. Two canoemen were 
needed to lift one of the great king salmon out of his native element. 
The order, precision and silence, except for the mystical chant; the 
bronzed faces and sinewy arms half disclosed in the waning twilight, 
the swift water and towering heights of the caiion, left an ineffaceable 

The Yukon was good to her children. From her waters came the 
fish of many sorts, their staff of life. On her broad sloughs and amongst 
her thickets, the wild geese rested and the ducks raised their downy 
broods. The furs and skins which kept the native warm and dry, came 
from her banks. The stately spruce and silvery birch along her shores 
supplied houses, canoes, utensils, traps and fuel. Floored with ice or 
flowing yellow in the sun, she was her people's highway. In death their 
elevated tombs were placed where might be had the widest view of 
Yukon water. 

The Men of the Yukon had, like other men, their careers, affections, 
tragedies and triumphs. The valley whose rim enclosed their world, 
since they knew none other, was as wide for them as our world is for 
us. It is certain that for their world they had worked out problems 
which we are still facing with puzzled trepidation in ours. No man 
went hungry in a Yukon village. No youth might wed until he had 
killed a deer, as token that he could support his family. The trail 
might be lined with temporary caches, yet no man put out his hand 
to steal. Men were valued by their achievements and their liberality. 
Any man might rise to eminence and leadership by showing his fitness 
in his community. That there were evil doers occasionally is probable, 


but there was an unwritten limit which might not be transgressed with- 
out condign punishment. 

The stranger was welcomed without inquisitiveness, sheltered and 
fed without ostentation, and sent on his way without fee or reward. 
The dead were protected and remembered; their deeds of prowess 
handed down as examples for the young. Debauchery was unknown 
until taught bv men of whiter skins. 

They suffered from the dread of mysterious powers, and the 
shaman took his tithes of them. Their religion was vague and their 
politics mostly a minus quantity; but in practice they knew what was 
just and good, and in the main made it their rule of life. 

Such were the Men of the Yukon, to whom civilization and the greed 
of gold brought drink, disease and death. The fittest has survived, but 
the fittest for what? 

Time will restore their verdure to the Yukon placers, when the 
gold has been extracted and the prospector ceases from troubling. The 
graceful spruce will clothe her ravaged banks once more, and even the 
salmon exterminated by the canneries will replenish her waters in the 
fulness of time. The stern wheeler will pass away with the exhaustion 
of the mines, or at least become a rarity. The Arctic calm will rest 
once more upon her hillsides. But the Men of the Yukon trained to 
her ways by the experience of generations, wise in her capabilities, con- 
tented with her bounty, the true children of the river and its valley, 
these she shall know no more. 





"A /T~AN has ever been ready to show his esteem of animal ways, even 
-*-»-■- to the veneration that in early times took the form of animal 
worship. The cunning and courage of animals, their passions and 
endurance, their keenness of sense and mastery of instinct, appealed to 
the man of nature as enviable qualities. The wolf that he feared, or 
the horse that be subdued was equally to him a fellow being. He was 
aware that the animal scent was truer, the animal sense of direction 
surer, than his own. Matching his wits against theirs, he knew that 
he might be outwitted by animal wile, might be overcome by animal 
daring. In his mythology he constructed beings endowed with super- 
human qualities by fantastic combinations of the animal and the 
human form; and in his fables, from iEsop to B'rer Babbit, he gave 
to his favorite animal the hero's part in his simple plots. He placed 
himself under the protection of some sacred animal as a totem, and 
held it as likely that the souls of an animal could be made to inhabit the 
bodies of a man, or that by some magic he could be transformed into 
their semblance. 

It is quite possible that some obscure and disguised variety of this 
same instinctive feeling may still affect our estimates of what animals 
do, and of how they feel and think. We know so intimately how our 
domestic pets enter into the routine of our lives, share our moods and 
occupations, that it seems plausible to suppose that only a lack of 
speech prevents them from expressing a knowledge of our thoughts and 
sympathy with our feelings. But when we reflect upon the matter 
more soberly, we realize that we must not allow our prejudices to affect 
our judgment of what their behavior justifies us in concluding in re- 
gard to their intelligence. In considering what kinds of minds they 
have and how they use them, we must never forget how different are 
their needs from ours, how easily an action on their part may seem 
to be full of meaning to us (because if performed by us it would be 
done for definite reasons and purposes), and yet may be for them a 
rather simple trick to gain our favor. This, indeed, is the difficulty of 
the whole problem. We can judge what animals think only from 
what they do; yet what they really do may be wholly different from 
what they apparently do. It is we who unintentionally read into the 
action the meaning that it has for us. The way out of this difficulty 
is not very simple nor very direct; and it is the psychologist's business 


to determine by all the various kinds of evidence and reasoning that he 
can bring to bear upon the data, just what kinds of thinking the most 
favored animal can and can not master. The last particularly must 
be carefully considered; yet, both for animal capacities and animal 
limitations, is it of prime importance to note that, like ourselves, 
animals will only learn to do such things as enter profitably into the 
scheme of their lives. They will under ordinary natural circumstances 
acquire an intelligent appreciation of such of the goings on in the 
world about them as they can put to use; and even though we furnish 
our pets with decidedly different conditions of life and teach them 
much that they would have no occasion to learn for themselves, yet the 
manner of their learning will still remain of the same kind and re- 
quire the same combination of powers as governs their natural be- 
havior. So, in the end, the question of how animals think is one that 
psychology may hopefully consider. The answer will never be wholly 
complete; but there is no reason, so far as it goes, why it should not 
be sound and convincing — setting forth clearly and precisely what 
types of intelligent action animals share with us, and how much greater 
a range of even our simple thinking and doing lies wholly outside of 
both their interests and their capacities. 

Such reflections are brought home to the psychologist whenever he 
observes how willing people are to be convinced that the multiplication- 
table and reading and spelling fall as readily within the powers of the 
exceptional animal as they do within those of an ordinary small boy. 
Let us consider a group of performances that within recent years have 
been triumphantly heralded as proving the vast possibilities of animal 
education, and have been accepted by the vast majority of people for 
what they pretend to be. A wise horse, ' Kluge Hans,' has mystified 
Berlin audiences; and 'Jim Key,' another equine sage, has done the 
same for the American public, by going through a program that in- 
cludes adding and subtracting, and multiplying and dividing, reading 
and spelling, telling time and the days of the week, indicating people's 
ages, or sorting their letters, revealing their professions and their 
peculiarities, knowing the value of coins and bills, and even pointing 
out passages from the Bible or reasoning that a circle has no corners ! 
In analyzing such performances, it is indispensable to remain undis- 
tracted by what the exhibitor asserts or pretends that the animal does, 
but calmly to observe what really takes place and to decide not neces- 
sarily how the trick is done, but what kind of thinking is concerned 
in the steps that the animal really takes. Such an exhibition may, 
however, offer an equally interesting study of the psychology of the 
audience as of the performer — a study of what people are ready to 
believe and why they are so disposed. 

It does not require a deep psychological insight to make it clear 
that the calculating and spelling, time-telling and letter-sorting horse 


would be as much of a miracle as a Centaur, or a Pegasus, or a Unicorn. 
All these creatures belong, and with equal obviousness, to the world of 
fable; and the one falls as far outside the realm of actual psychology 
as does the other escape the ken of the zoologist. If one is inclined 
to regard that so obvious a proposition would at once command assent, 
he need only overhear the talk of those who come away from these 
' marvelous ' performances to be assured that the calculating horse and 
the unicorn are in popular estimation horses of very different colors. 
The latter is at once put aside as belonging to the world of myth; but 
the former, though not to be met with in every stable, is regarded as 
falling within the occasional possibilities of mundane horsedom. 

If we forget for the moment that there is absolutely nothing in a 
horse's life that would supply the least occasion for developing so re- 
markable a talent as is needed for counting or spelling, we may bring 
ourselves to consider what kind of a miracle the calculating horse would 
stand for. An extravagant admirer of the Berlin horse, in maintain- 
ing that ' Hans's ' education is about on a par with that of a boy (even 
a Berlin boy) of twelve years, has at least the courage of his convic- 
tions; nothing less would suffice to fit that genius of a horse to handle 
numbers and words and the abstract relation of things as his friends 
allege. And if a Zulu or an Esquimau were, after an equally brief 
schooling, to turn out a Newton or a Darwin, it would be rather less 
of a marvel. 

To gain a common-sense view of the matter, observe a bright child 
of three years of age : note how it gives a hundred evidences for every 
hour of its waking existence, of a ceaselessly busy occupation with all 
sorts of ideas and little mental problems; how it sets up in its play 
one situation after another, sees new relations, devises a new use for 
an old toy, and creates a little world of its own imagining, for which 
it makes rules and breaks them, pretends that things are happening 
and gives reasons for their doing so; and so hour after hour proves 
itself possessed of a very acute little mind to which ideas and rela- 
tions and situations are very interesting and familiarly handled mental 
tools or playthings. It is very true that much of this we know only 
because the child keeps up a constant chatter in its play, and speaks 
for itself as well as its toy or dolls, reveals its inventions in words, and 
thus tells the story, which without the explanation we could in our 
grown-up remoteness from such occupation but feebly understand. 
But the very possibility of learning all this language and of using it 
is itself a direct tribute to the intelligence that animates the little brain 
and reveals its finer quality, its greater possibilities. Language helps, 
most decidedly helps, the mind to grow in scope and power ; but it does 
not create the capacity which its use requires. "We have, moreover, 
some very interesting accounts of the cleverness of young children, who 
from early infancy were both deaf and blind, and who from their dark 


and silent world into which language could but sparsely enter, gave 
equally convincing proof of how busy their brains were with much the 
same kind of thoughts and purposes and interests as make up the 
mental lives of their more fortunate playmates. Naturally their do- 
ings were decidedly hampered, and their thinkings decidedly limited 
by the slightness of the bond — the single highway of touch — that con- 
nected them with their fellow beings. Such a child, in almost as 
languageless a condition as a dog and with far less chance of finding 
out what was going on in the world and of participating therein, de- 
velops into a rational creature of just that special kind of rationality 
that even in its simplest terms the brightest dog seems never to achieve. 
And now consider what a slow and weary path this bright child, 
equipped with all its sense and senses, and at the expense of much 
patient teaching, must tread before it comprehends the message of 
the letters, and gets to look upon ' twice two is four ' as something 
more than a rather stupid bit of memory exercise, that, like virtue, if 
persisted in, brings its own reward. With an inconceivably great start 
beyond the dog or the horse, with a tremendously greater aptitude for 
just this sort of mental acrobatics, the human child must await some 
years of ripening of its powers, and upon that favorable foundation 
expend some further years of initiation and schooling to exhibit a 
simple proficiency in getting meaning out of those crooked black marks 
on white paper, and in putting two and two together so as to com- 
prehend the manner of its strange transformation into four. Surely, 
the accomplishment merits our profound admiration. To this under- 
standing of how much is involved in bringing an apt mind to the 
point at which reading and calculating becomes a bare possibility, 
of how great a world is already conquered when the three E's begin 
to play even the most modest of parts, let us add one point more: 
When the child begins to show (and not wholly by language) that the 
letters and numbers have some meaning, it shows the fact so variously 
that we have constant means of testing how real its knowledge may be. 
We gain a pretty fair idea in each case, how far the accomplishment is 
a mere mechanical trick, or a really comprehended operation. Every- 
where the limitations are conspicuously obvious; and we know how 
gradually we must add to the complexity of the business, how readily, 
by only a slight change in the setting of the problem, we sink the strug- 
gling mind beyond its depth. All this is a very sound lesson in psy- 
chology to take with us, when we attend a ' show ' in which a horse or a 
dog is put through some steps which are supposed to prove for the star 
performer a real comprehension of the message of the letters and the 
operations of the multiplication-table. 

With so much of preamble, let us look at the actual performance, 
first as it is presented on the show-bills, and then as it appears from 
behind the scenes. The program that advertises the learned perform- 


ances of ' Jim Key ' includes among its dozen numbers such items as 
these : ' Jim shows his proficiency in figuring, adding, multiplication, 
division and subtraction for any number below thirty.' ' He spells 
any ordinary name asked him.' ' He reads and writes.' ' Gives quo- 
tations from the Bible where the horse is mentioned, giving chapter 
and verse ' ; and in addition acts as a post-office clerk or handles a cash- 
register. When these problems are reduced to equine terms, they prove 
to be simple variations of a single theme. To aid the figuring, the 
numbers are placed in natural order on large frames, five in a row, and 
five rows ; and the letters, in alphabetical order, are similarly displayed. 
The numbers to be added or subtracted are proposed by some one in 
the audience, and repeated by the showman. The horse then proceeds 
to the card bearing the number that indicates the result, takes that 
card between his teeth and gives it to his master. The same is done 
for words composed of letters, each letter being selected in turn. 

This is absolutely the whole performance; and even when most 
generously interpreted bears a decidedly remote resemblance to what 
the posters describe. The interesting part of it all is that so many 
who witness this simple exhibition are quite ready to conclude that 
before ' Jim Key ' chooses -his card, he goes through those mental 
processes which each one of the audience performs when he works out 
the answer to the problem as announced. This assumption is not alone 
wholly uncalled for, but is actually preposterous. One of the elemen- 
tary facts that students of mind, whether of human or of animal minds, 
clearly grasp, is that there are vastly different ways in this complex 
world of ours, of doing the same thing. The same result is reached 
by wholly different means. To neglect this distinction would be to 
conclude that because one man — or, if you like, a horse or a squirrel — 
avoids a certain mushroom on account of its unpleasant odor, and the 
botanist does so by recognizing it as a specimen of Amanita muscaria, 
that all have displayed the same kind of intelligence, have used the 
same reasoning, because in the end they reach the same result — the 
avoidance of the fungus. To the simple, but comprehensive statement 
that the horse gives not the slightest indication of going through any 
of these processes in order to select his card, it need only be added that 
he gives decided indication of going through a very different land of 
process. It is not at all necessary to know precisely what special sign 
the horse observes in guiding his selections, in order to determine 
(which is the important thing) that it is some kind of simple sign, an 
operation that falls within this general type. The type of ' Jim Key's ' 
operation is simply that of learning to go first to a certain one of five 
rows, that is either the middle, or the top, or the bottom, or the one 
between middle and top, or the one between middle and bottom; and 
then in turn to select one of five cards arranged horizontally that offer 
a similar choice. Whether the cards bear numbers or letters or Chinese 


characters or the Weather Bureau signals or any other markings, and 
whether these markings have any meaning, is as wholly indifferent to 
the horse as it is unnecessary for him to go through any reasoning 
process in order to select the card that he is to present as his answer. 
As to the precise association that an animal comes to establish between 
a certain sign and a certain action, and the number and complexity of 
such associations that he can master, there is doubtless some variation 
among animals, though again hardly as much as amongst men. It is 
also interesting to determine the nature of the signs, whether noted by 
the ear or the eye, that a dog or a horse most readily learns; but all 
these details do not at all modify the general nature of the operation, 
which mainly needs be considered. The actual indication that ' Jim 
Key ' follows to reach first the right frame, and then the right row, 
and then the right letter, seems to be given by different positions of 
the master's whip. The ability to learn even this simple association 
is probably very limited, and in this case seems never to exceed ' five.' 
Upon this slender basis of actual achievement, does ' Jim Key ' attain 
his reputation as a learned thinker. 

The performances of ' Kluge Hans/ so far as they may be gathered 
from the printed descriptions, are of no more complex character. The 
method of response is simpler and consists of nothing more than in 
pawing continuously one stroke after another, and of stopping when 
the number of strokes corresponds to the answer of the arithmetical 
problem that has been set. Alphabets and ' yes ' and ' no ' must also 
be reduced to numbers before they fall within ' Hans's ' repertory. 
Here again, as announced, the program is most versatile and startling. 
There is the same proficiency in multiplying and dividing and adding 
and spelling ; and by an ingenious variation of the question, ' Hans ' 
will tell how many of the admiring company are over fifty years of 
age, or are members of a certain profession, and will paw ' yes ' or 
' no ' in answer to any question of which his master knows the answer. 
The claims put forth on behalf of the Berlin horse — and that on the 
part of men otherwise versed in scientific matters — is indeed remark- 
able, positively astounding ; for one of these attributes to ' Hans ' a 
perfect acquaintance with fractions, the ability of distinguishing colors 
as well as playing-cards, to tell the coins of the realm, to differentiate 
geometrical figures, to give the time upon any watch-face, to name 
musical tones and tell which are discords. The method by which these 
answers are indicated is never more nor less than that of pawing until 
the correct number is reached. The more complicated replies are in 
the form of words : for this purpose the elementary sounds are reduced 
to 42 — allowing for combinations of vowels and consonants. Accord- 
ingly, any one of these sounds is indicated by occupying one of seven 
places on one of six rows ; thus for ' // ' Hans ' stamps first 3 times 
•and then 4 ; and for ' St/ first 5, then 6. Under this system,- the horse 


is actually supposed to distinguish between the ordinary ' s ' and the 
' long s ' at the end of the word, between ' au J (with the Umlaut) and 
' au ' without it, and so on. Such, at all events, is the claim set 
forth for ' Hans's ' miraculous intelligence. As a fact it is, of course, 
completely a matter of indifference to ' Hans ' what the questions may 
be; they could with equal success be put in Greek or Sanskrit, so long 
as he can catch the right signal and stop pawing at the right time. 
And so again the gap between fact and fable is world-wide; and the 
assumption equally groundless that any measure of the human kind 
of reasoning intervenes to make possible the horse's replies. 

Surely there is nothing in either of these performances, except the 
pretences of the showman, that in the least suggests the use of any of 
the powers that the developing child must first acquire to gain an 
actual knowledge of numbers and letters. And, if we look, we shall 
find many indications of the quite different processes that are really 
concerned. The best of these lies in the nature of the mistakes that 
are likely to occur. For ' Jim Key,' these take the form of selecting a 
neighboring letter — an { x ' for a ' y ' — a kind of mistake which no 
mind that really was doing any spelling would be in the least tempted 
to commit ; while ' Hans's ' mistake consists in not seeing the signal 
quickly enough, and in pawing once too often or in anticipating through 
the getting ready of the signal, and stopping too soon, again a type of 
mistake that has no relation to the actual operation of those who cal- 
culate and read. So also the scope of the questions that these mar- 
velous animals at once attack without preliminary training shows how 
unrelated is the finding of the answer to the consideration of the prob- 
lem. If we add considerably to the difficulty of the problem that we 
set to a calculating child, we must be prepared to accustom its powers 
gradually to the increased difficulty and to take small steps repeatedly 
with much chance for mistake in the newer processes. But these cal- 
culating horses jump at once into fractions and square-roots, into 
propositions in geometry, and equations in algebra, when some enter- 
prising questioner proposes them. This at all events is true for 
' Hans's ' master, who easily prepares the result ; though in ' Jim 
Key's' case, one sometimes suspects that the calculating possibilities 
of the master are not immeasurably in advance of those of the horse. 

And once more — it certainly seems strange that so exceptionally 
educated an animal should find no other occasion to exercise his re- 
markable powers, should not spontaneously exhibit some original evi- 
dences of his genius, that would distinguish him from the ordinary 
horse. We are even tempted to pity so talented an animal with no 
outlet for its vigorous mind, condemned to the monotonous round of 
oats and hay, varied only by the tit-bits of carrot and sugar which, 
however, seem to be appreciated as rewards of learning by these edu- 
cated animals quite as keenly as by their untutored kind. It is also 


pertinent, though possibly unnecessary, to point out the inherent con- 
tradiction between the operations that a successful reply is supposed 
to involve and the absurdity of the failures or wrong answers that 
occasionally occur. Thus, this most intelligent Berlin horse, who is 
supposed to be acquainted with difficult mathematical relations, occa- 
sionally makes mistakes. Now when a child makes a mistake, it is 
in regard to some operation just beyond its capacity, while the simpler 
additions and subtractions are readily accomplished. On the other 
hand, Hans, immediately after giving an answer in square-root, fails 
to count the buttons on an officer's coat, and insists, until repeatedly 
corrected, that a man has three ears and not two; or again, after 
making the minute distinctions of German orthography, puts K for 
J; and further, if this miraculous horse really distinguished the 
sounds and converted them into letters, why should he not be phonetic- 
ally misled and occasionally substitute, let us say, a ck for a 1-, which 
would mean all the difference between 2 pawings followed by 1, and 
3 followed by 0. Yet such objections are indeed superfluous, or would 
be were they not so commonly disregarded by the prejudice in favor of 
taking such absurd pretences at their face value. In brief, it is diffi- 
cult seriously to investigate these limitations in any other spirit than 
that of pointing out how unmistakably they indicate an unreasoning, 
unrelated method of reaching the answer through some system of signs. 

This statement of the facts of the case does not at all imply that 
in this performance we have reached the limits of the horse's education. 
Very likely the intelligent horse may be taught to go very much farther 
than this in the direction of his natural ability to associate signs with 
actions. It would, for example, be very interesting to know whether 
' Jim Key ' could be taught, in selecting one after the other the letters 
that spell his name, to go of his own accord for the ' I ' after he has 
been led to the ' J/ and then to the ' M/ and so on ; that is, whether 
he could learn to perform a series of selections by associating each with 
the one following. This would still be a task of the same order, but a 
more complicated one; and in investigations of this kind earnest stu- 
dents of animal intelligence have obtained important evidence as to the 
capacities and limitations of animal thinking. Such psychological 
questions are asked in a different temper from that which prompts the 
stage performances, and lead to far more useful results. 

And so we come last to the other side of our inquiry, why this kind 
of a performance is so generally accepted at its face value, why educated 
persons will attribute to the horse (as they do to the Berlin horse), the 
insight to recognize that 27 divided by 7 gives 3 with a remainder of 
six, that !/4 must be added to make a unit out of %, or that at 12 :17 
one must wait 43 minutes for one o'clock ! Indeed, so wide-spread were 
the misleading accounts of this learned animal, that a commission of 

VOL. LXIX. — 10. 


inquiry was appointed to investigate the whole affair; and upon this 
commission sat a professor of psychology of the University of Berlin. 
Though the foregone conclusion was reached that the performance did 
not exhibit ' a scintilla of anything that may be regarded as thought/ 
it certainly seems incongruous that so serious an inquiry should have 
become desirable. Only one point of interest seems to have been 
elicited, namely, that the horse's master or the bystanders may have 
frequently been honestly unaware of giving the sign which the keen 
senses of the horse caught as the indication to stop pawing. Perhaps 
we need not too pointedly raise the question as to how far these exhibi- 
tions intentionally deceive their audiences. Wherever systematic 
training enters, it follows that the trainer must realize how wide is 
the gap between what is done and what is pretended. Self-deception 
on the part of the showman can not be held accountable for more than 
a slight portion of this discrepancy. Yet still truer is it that if people 
were not ready to credit such remarkable powers to the horse or the 
dog, siich exhibitions would find no favor. It is partly because animals 
can really do many things that are wonderful in themselves and, if 
performed by men, would require considerable rational powers, that we 
are inclined to credit them with capacities for learning similar to our 
own. This tendency can be held in check only by an appreciation of 
the complexity of even a simple piece of true reasoning, of how essential 
it is to appraise an action in terms of the process that led to it, and 
how indirect is the revelation of process that comes from the knowledge 
of the result alone. When this simple lesson in psychology is clearly 
recognized as furnishing a sound basis for judgment, there will be less 
tendency to believe that horses can take unto themselves brains with a 
capacity to multiply and read, as to believe that a horse has suddenly 
sprouted wings, even though such a Pegasus is pictured on the posters 
displayed in front of the exhibition hall. 

People would also less easily succumb to such deception if they 
stopped to consider that in regard to these animal performances they 
must earn the right to an opinion by some simple measure of initia- 
tion into the arrangements of what impresses the uninitiated as a re- 
markable exhibition. The first attitude is naturally that of wonder, 
and in lack of any detailed knowledge of what the trick may be, the 
tendency is strong to credit, at least in part, the explanations that are 
advanced. Once this attitude is overcome and the kind of training that 
prepares for the performance is understood, the whole affair loses its 
marvelous aspect and becomes a mildly interesting demonstration of 
animal training. A brief glimpse of the mechanism behind the scenes 
is quite sufficient to balance the glare of the footlights and leave the 
spectator in possession of his usual measure of human intelligence that 
enables him to appraise sympathetically but sanely the intelligent 
powers of animals. 


By c. c. eckhardt 


TN the last decade certain disconnected movements have accom- 
-*- plished something in the way of bringing about a world state, 
and other movements are on foot to bring about a completion of this 
general movement. The Hague Peace Conference (1899) brought 
about the establishment of a permanent international court of arbitra- 
tion or the international department of justice; the Interparliamentary 
Union is trying to effect the establishment of a world parliament or 
congress, or legislative department, and if possible a world executive 
department. The purpose of this article will be to deal with the 
history and nature of each of these movements, to point out the reasons 
why the present movement ought theoretically to succeed and to discuss 
the obstacles to a successful realization of such plans. 

1. The Hague Peace Conference and the Hague Tribunal. — In the 
summer of 1898 the Tsar invited all the principal states of the civilized 
world to send delegates to discuss concerted action for the maintenance 
of a general peace and the amelioration of the hardships of war and to 
plan for the possible reduction of the military and naval armaments 
of the world. This conference met May 18 to July 29, 1899. It was 
composed of one hundred delegates representing states having standing 
armies and navies; twenty-six nations in all were represented. The 
Papacy, the Transvaal Republic, and the states of Central and South 
America were not represented. The results of the conference were 
twofold : ( 1 ) Certain arrangements concerning warfare were made and 
(2) a permanent court of arbitration was established. 

The arrangements concerning warfare need not occupy our atten- 
tion; suffice it to say that a number of resolutions were adopted which 
tend to make war less brutal and have in view the ultimate reduction 
of military and naval armaments. Besides these humanitarian efforts 
of the conference, it accomplished what will be historically much more 
important, namely, the establishment of a permanent international 
court of arbitration. The powers agreed to submit all serious cases of 
international dispute for decision to an international tribunal. The 
conference provides for the selection of persons who shall constitute a 
permanent tribunal for six years. Each power can choose not more 


than four members, who must be learned in international law. If a 
dispute occurs the disputants select two of these four from each country, 
or others not permanent members. These parties choose an umpire, 
and the settlement is to progress according to stipulated arrangements 
of procedure. So by this conference a world tribunal was established. 

Strange to say, the nations did not submit any cases for arbitra- 
tion in this court until the year 1902. To the present time five cases 
have been submitted. The first was the Pious Fund Case, 1902. This 
concerned a dispute over the disposition of a fund created for the 
support of certain missions in Mexico. In 1697 the Jesuits in Mexico 
had collected a fund for their monastic and missionary enterprises. 
After the abolition of the order of Jesuits in 1768, the government 
seized the property of the Pious Fund, but distributed its income 
among the missions concerned. After California became a part of the 
United States, these annual payments were not made to the missions 
in California. Our government protested on the part of the missions 
concerned, but to no avail. Finally, both departments of state con- 
cluded to let the matter be judged by the Hague Tribunal, and there 
the award was given to the claimants of the United States. Mexico 
was asked to pay the arrears and to continue the regular annual pay- 
ments. Another case was between Venezuela, on the one hand, and 
a number of European countries and the United States, on the other. 
The chief facts of the case are the following: Owing to numerous 
revolutions in Venezuela, the government was heavily in debt and was 
unable to meet its financial obligations to European and American 
creditors. Venezuela disagreed as to the amount to be paid and wanted 
time to reorganize her finances. Several of the European countries 
brought pressure to bear on Venezuela with little success. Finally, 
it was decided to arbitrate the claims at The Hague. This was accom- 
plished in February, 1904. The claims in the aggregate did not amount 
to very much, but the precedent was very important. Decisions in the 
other three cases have not yet been rendered. 

Fully as important as the cases which have been submitted to the 
Hague Tribunal is the recent agreement of Norway and Sweden. In 
drawing up the final terms which provided for the peaceful separation 
of Norway and Sweden, those two powers agreed for a period of ten 
years to submit to the Hague Tribunal all matters of dispute, except 
those which affect the independence, integrity and vital interests of 
either. Similar treaties of arbitration have been drawn up by the 
other powers, but this treaty differs from the others in one important 
respect. In the other treaties either party decides whether the point 
in dispute is of vital interest or not. In the case of Norway and 
Sweden, the Hague Tribunal decides whether the point in dispute is of 
such vital importance as can not be decided justly by the tribunal. 


So we see that the newly created department of justice has had very 
little to do — but the fact that it has had any disputes at all to decide is 
a very hopeful sign. The tendency will undoubtedly be to have more 
cases submitted. The example of Xorway and Sweden may be followed 
by other states. A more valuable precedent would be a similar arrange- 
ment by two first-class powers. 

2. The Interparliamentary Union, or the attempt to establish a 
world congress or legislature. At present there is in existence an 
organization called the Interparliamentary Union; it is composed of 
members of the various legislative bodies of Europe and America; its 
object is to have conferences periodically to discuss the means of bring- 
ing about an international legislative body — a world congress or parlia- 
ment. This union was founded in 1888 in Paris as a result of the 
work of William Eandall Cremer, M.P., an English carpenter and labor 
unionist. In 1889 the first regular conference was held in Paris, and 
since then meetings have been held at most European capitals and in 
some other important European cities and in St. Louis. It now has 
more than two thousand members, all of whom fill seats in some na- 
tional parliament. There are two hundred from the United States. 
Membership is voluntary and lasts as long as the members retain seats 
in their respective parliaments or legislatures. In discussing this 
union we shall note its accomplishments to 1901, the work of the 
meeting at St. Louis in that year and its most recent efforts to create 
a world parliament. 

The achievements to 1901 are rather difficult to state. The move- 
ment has grown gradually ; it has had practical statesmen as organizers, 
leaders and members; their influence has been great in creating and 
stimulating a sentiment in favor of universal peace and the means of 
attaining that peace. From the beginning the conferences have at- 
tempted to bring about international arbitration, and it is interesting 
to note that at the Hague meeting in 1891 the conference declared in 
favor of a permanent court of arbitration, and a commission of six 
men was appointed to draw up plans for such. Thus it should be 
remarked that this conference anticipated the Hague Peace Conference 
by five years, and that the main work of the Hague Peace Conference 
was due in no small degree to the work of the Interparliamentary 
Peace Conference. 

One of the most prominent leaders, at least the most prominent 
American leader, at present is Richard Bartholdt, congressman from 
St. Louis. It was due to his influence at the 1903 meeting at Vienna 
that the union held its conference at St. Louis in 1901. At St. Louis 
the famous St. Louis resolution was drawn up by Bartholdt and 
adopted unanimously by the conference. It declared in favor of the 
following things: (]) There should be a conference of nations to con- 


sider the universal execution of treaties of arbitration; (2) a congress 
of nations should be created in which every nation shall have repre- 
sentatives. Such sentiments had been expressed before; but this 
seemed to be greeted with more enthusiasm than any other similar 
proposal of the past. After having closed the session at St. Louis, 
the members of the conference visited Washington and requested Presi- 
dent Eoosevelt to invite the governments of the world to send delegates 
to a Second International Peace Conference. This he did. All of 
the powers replied favorably except Eussia and Japan; their refusal 
was owing to the prosecution of the Eusso-Japanese War. When 
hostilities ceased it was thought that Eoosevelt would ask the Belgian 
government to issue a formal invitation to all powers concerned. But 
during the Portsmouth Peace Conference the Tsar, through his diplo- 
matic representatives, expressed his desire to have the privilege of 
calling the Second Peace Conference, since he had called the first. 
Eoosevelt gladly consented. Just recently the Tsar summoned the 
conference to meet in the fall of 1906. 

Hitherto the work of the Interparliamentary Union has been merely 
preliminary, working up an organization, creating a desire for an 
international congress. In the past year important steps have been 
taken. In August, 1905, the union held its thirteenth annual meeting 
at Brussels. Here two things of importance were accomplished. In 
the first place, the South American and Central American republics 
Avere invited to send delegates to the next annual meeting of the union. 
Up to that time the Latin American states had not been asked to 
participate in this movement. Secondly, a commission of seven mem- 
bers was appointed to draw up a plan for an international congress. 
Mr. Bartholdt was the American member of the commission, which met 
in Paris in November, 1905. The plan of the commission provides: 
That an international legislature of two houses shall be established; 
that the lower house, or popular branch, shall represent the various 
legislatures of the world; that the upper house, or senate, shall be ap- 
pointed by the various governments; and that this legislature shall 
meet periodically, probably at the Hague. This plan of the commis- 
sion will be the basis of discussion at the next meeting of the union. 

So far the Interparliamentary Union has merely created an organ- 
ization which has been given no legal status or official recognition by 
the various governments. It has had no appreciable influence on in- 
ternational relations. Nevertheless, its work to the present time has 
been of considerable value and importance. It has secured the member- 
ship and earnest support of the highest-minded and most capable 
legislators of the world. Through its members and its own influence 
it has created and stimulated feelings in favor of universal peace, and 


is ready to contribute what is perhaps a very satisfactory means of 
maintaining this much-desired universal peace. 

3. The World Executive. — To the present time no definite plan for 
a world executive has been proposed ; no movement to establish this has 
been put on foot. Provisions for this department will no doubt be 
made later as the occasion requires. No one knows what form it will 
take. It will hardly be delegated to one man, or even a few men. 
The international parliament may appoint a committee for all neces- 
sary administrative work ; this may be divided into a number of bureaus 
having charge of the various kinds of administration. If any armed 
coercion is necessary to enforce international laws, the combined fleets 
of a number of powers may be used, as has been the case in the last 
century when the powers coerced Turkey. 

4. The Purpose of the World State. — We have been discussing the 
origin, organization and characteristics of the proposed world state — 
now a few words as to its purpose and the place it will fill. Its pur- 
pose will be: (1) To provide a definite recognized code of international 
law; (2) to establish a tribunal which will apply this law, which will 
arbitrate disputes arising between nations and prevent the disagreeable 
and disastrous clashes between the peoples of the civilized world. In- 
ternational law at the present time is unsatisfactory. It does not have 
the force of law as does municipal law; it is not uniform. There is 
need of a legally constituted body to weed out inconsistencies, to bring 
in uniformity, to make new laws for the numerous points which are 
still undecided and which are bound to appear as the intercourse of 
nations becomes more and more extensive. No one will dispute that 
the world state will fill a definite place. 

5. Why the Present Movement for a World State ought to succeed. 
— A proposal to establish a world state will naturally have its critics — 
many will doubt the success of such an undertaking. But there are 
a number of reasons why success can be hoped for some time in the 
future. Immanuel Kant in his ' Perpetual Peace '* declares that the 
following things are necessary for a world state: (1) All nations should 
have representative government; (2) successful systems of federal gov- 
ernment must have been established in part of the world; (3) there 
must be a moral force to support the effort. This statement is mere 
opinion, but the opinion of this writer may well be cited as worth con- 
sideration. It seems to us that these things are essentials. To what 
extent are these requirements fulfilled at the present time? 

Representative government has been attained by all the christian 
states of Europe except Russia; and undoubtedly the Russian people 
will also secure some measure of political liberty before the present 
disturbances are permanently allayed. All important nations and 

1 ' Saemmlliche Werke/ Vol. VI., pp. 416-427. 


communities outside of Europe have their affairs settled by representa- 
tives of the people — the United States, Canada, Australia, Japan. 
Even China has recently appointed a commission to travel in Europe 
and America to inspect the best forms of representative government. 
Federal government has been successfully tried in a number of cases — 
the United States, Germany, Switzerland, Canada and Australia. The 
moral sentiment which will support such a movement has been in- 
creased very noticeably in the nineteenth century. The idea of the 
brotherhood of man has gained great strength; there is a growing idea 
that moral law is fully as binding on nations as on individuals; there 
is an ever increasing number who think it is just as wrong to kill a 
man in battle as to commit murder. Then along with these forces 
there is the so-called ' Welt-Geist,' a cosmopolitan spirit, the idea of 

The hope that the powers may some time unite to establish a per- 
manent international legislative body does not seem unreasonable. The 
past century produced what is called the Concert of European Powers. 
They have met at irregular intervals to discuss affairs of mutual in- 
terest; the enactments of some of these congresses have become recog- 
nized international law. A few examples will suffice. The Congress 
of Vienna (1814-1815) rearranged the map of Europe and undid 
much of the work of the revolutionary era. The Near Eastern Ques- 
tion has frequently occasioned united action on the part of the great 
j:>owers of Europe. The navigation of the Ehine, the Elbe and the 
Danube has been regulated by European congresses, held at various 
times. In 1856, at Paris, the powers drew up rules concerning priva- 
teers, neutral goods, goods contraband of war and blockades; and these 
rules are a part of recognized international law to-day. In 1888 the 
Suez Canal was neutralized. In 1881 and 1885 the powers assembled 
in order to partition Africa peaceably and to make definite regulations 
concerning African affairs. In 1874, at Berne, was established the 
Universal Postal Union, whereby most of the nations of the world have 
secured a more adequate foreign-mail service. In the past few months 
the conference of Algeciras met to discuss international interests in 
Morocco. These facts show that in the past and present century the 
nations, not only of Europe, but of the whole world, have successfully 
cooperated in affairs of mutual interest. If they can meet irregularly 
for special purposes, it is not at all fanciful to think that at some future 
time they may meet periodically to make laws concerning all affairs of 
international polity. 

There are also some practical reasons why the movement can and 
ought to succeed. The first is economic. The establishment of a 
world state will tend to secure peaceful intercourse between nations; 
there will be less and less occasion for war; international relations will 


be more definitely defined; more and more disputes will be settled by 
arbitration in the court of the world. Such a state will receive the 
undivided support of the commercial interests of the world, for com- 
merce thrives best in times of peace. Since this is an industrial and 
commercial age, the business interests ought and will support a move- 
ment to bring about and preserve peace. The practical or mechanical 
obstacles to the establishment of a world state are fewer now than ever 
before; in fact, one might almost say they do not exist any longer. 
By means of past inventions and discoveries the world is more closely 
united, more thoroughly bound together, than ever before. Steam rail- 
ways, steamships, the telegraph, telephone and wireless telegraphy and 
scores of other inventions have annihilated distance. The formation 
of a world union is easier than ever before. 

6. Obstacles to the Success of the Movement. — Unfortunately such 
a movement as we are considering will have a number of serious ob- 
stacles to meet and overcome. Perhaps the most potent hindrance to 
the speedy establishment of a world state will be the existence of 
strong national feelings, the antipathy of the nations of Europe and 
the local patriotism on the American continent. It will be a long 
time before race hatred and national enmity will be allayed; it will 
probably be centuries before ' jingoism ' and local patriotism will be 
supplanted by reason and a cosmopolitan spirit. But in connection 
with this obstacle, one ought to note that a great amount of this 
cosmopolitan spirit does exist now and will continue to grow. Happily 
this spirit or feeling is not to be found solely among the upper and 
educated classes, but among the working classes also, and especially 
among the working classes of Europe. With them, however, the feel- 
ing is not necessarily an end in view, but a concomitant of their great 
struggle. The workingmen of Europe, organized under the banners 
of labor organizations and socialism, declare that their fight against 
capitalism is an international struggle, that the capitalistic regime is 
omnipresent and everywhere opposed to labor. 

Another obstacle to the establishment of a world state is the hostile 
attitude of the monarchical governments o"f Europe. Most of them 
are more or less jealous of their sovereignty and hate to have it cur- 
tailed in any way; they scorn being forced to arbitrate their disputes 
instead of fighting them out. This is not a mere assertion and can 
best be illustrated by the attitude of Germany. At the Hague Peace 
Conference in 1899, the German delegates declared that arbitration 
was incompatible with the divine right of kings to rule. The Emperor 
William has openly manifested his opposition to a permanent court of 
arbitration. When it was proposed that the German- Venezuelan ques- 
tion be submitted to the Hague Court, William II. proposed that the 
matter be left to President Poosevelt as arbitrator. But Roosevelt de- 


clined and advised recourse to The Hague. A world state implies 
republican government; it will necessarily be representative, not of 
monarchs, but of nations and peoples; this is not in harmony with the 
divine right of kings. But this opposition of the monarchs will not be 
insurmountable. If a strong sentiment in favor of arbitration or 
federation be manifested, the monarchs will very discreetly give way, 
as has been their wont in the past century. 

7. Conclusion. — This article has been merely an attempt to give an 
account of a tendency, its history and characteristics. The informa- 
tion available is exceedingly scarce; what is available is rather scat- 
tered and isolated; the status and force of the movement at any given 
time are difficult to estimate; the very nature of the movement itself is 
vague and visionary, it seems too fantastic to be practical, the attempt 
seems premature; it is the work of idealists, of optimists; their efforts 
are naturally looked upon with suspicion and discredit by conservatives 
and realists. Nevertheless, idealists prepare the way for movements 
which quicken the pulse of humanity and which bring about reforms 
both small and great. -No person living to-day may ever see the estab- 
lishment of a world state with power to execute its laws. However, 
we have seen that part of the machinery of a world state has been con- 
structed and that other parts are in the process of construction. It 
may take decades before this world state will exercise any influence. 
But it seems no small accomplishment for an age to create the ma- 
chinery of a world state which mankind will use to good advantage 
when there exists a sufficiently strong feeling of the need for and de- 
sirability of such an organization. 

Too much must not be expected of this movement. The world 
state will not bring about immediate disarmament, but if it succeeds 
it will bring about compulsory arbitration; it will establish a state of 
law among the nations. The more disputes settled by arbitration, by 
judicial decision in accordance with laws passed by a world congress, 
the fewer will be the occasions for war. If the need for war is de- 
creased, armaments will be less necessary and possibly may be aban- 
doned. Inasmuch as an object so worthy may ultimately be attained 
by this now rather visionary movement, it at least merits our attention 
and sincere hopes for its ultimate success. 





NO words are more common in the mouths of orators than the 
phrases: The march of Progress — the growth of Civilization. 
When we say that the twentieth century is in advance of the sixteenth, 
do we mean that it is so in each and every respect ? Do we mean that 
men in general have now a keener feeling for art than in the age of 
Michel Angelo; a finer knowledge of justice than in the century of 
Socrates; deeper religious feelings than in the days of Wesley, or of 
St. Thomas Aquinas? 

It is not easy to answer such questions offhand in any large way. 
The modern feeling for art is perhaps more wide-spread, but certainly 
far less keen, than in the Italy of the sixteenth century. If we say that 
our sense of justice is finer than that of the Greeks who condemned 
Socrates to death, and of all the centuries before our own, how is it 
that successive generations of men have preserved the narrative of his 
last day with sacred care ? What are we to say of the religious feelings 
of the day of Wesley compared with the ethical efforts of the day of 
Felix Adler? It is clearly not easy to give answers of real import to 
questions of the sort. We need a better insight into the meaning to 
be attached to words like progress, civilization and the like. Defini- 
tions taken out of dictionaries will not answer. 

It has been my fortune, lately, to make a fairly thorough study of 
that wonderful renaissance of science which began in the days of Roger 
Bacon, in the thirteenth century, and to endeavor to connect it with its 
origins in Alexandria, its precursor in Mohammedan Spain and its 
successor in the century of Galileo. There is no space here to present 
even a summary of such a study, 1 but it may not be out of place to 
give a few paragraphs which bear on the general and important ques- 
tion : how are we to measure progress ? 

In comparing the view-points of different ages with our own we 
continually meet with surprises. The uncritical attitude of the men of 
the thirteenth century towards miracles and wonders is little less than 
astounding to us. Our thought seems to be ages in advance of theirs. 
On the other hand, we often meet with an insight that has what we 
call the distinctly modern note. An instance from literature will 

1 See Popular Science Monthly, Vol. LXIV., pp. 316-342, and elsewhere. 


A man's character is his fate 
is a sentence that one would assign to Taine or to Stendahl in the nine- 
teenth century if one did not know it to have been written by Hera- 
clitus in the fifth century before Christ. In like manner, some of 
the scientific processes of Hipparchus, Archimedes and Boger Bacon are 
so ' modern ' as to bring a glow of delighted wonder when they are 
met with. Their failure to draw certain conclusions that seem almost 
obvious to us is equally astonishing. A formal explanation of the 
differences and of the resemblances of ancient ages with our own might 
be somewhat as follows. We may suppose that a completely developed 
man of our day has educated his sympathies and intelligence to have 
outlets in a certain large number of directions — let us say, in the direc- 
tions A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, 0, P, Q, E, S, T, IT, V, 
W, X, Y, Z. It is possible, however, that some few of these outlets 
are absent, or nearly closed, E and 0, for instance. The men of the 
eighteenth century may be supposed to have had fewer outlets, and 
those of the thirteenth still fewer; but the intensity and refinement of 
their sympathies in certain directions may not have been less, but far 
greater, than ours. The feeling of the thirteenth century for religion, 
and of the sixteenth for art, for example, were not only different in 
intensity, but very different in quality, from our own. 

When we make a formal comparison of our age with that of St. 
Thomas Aquinas and of Newton, the table might stand thus : 

A, B, C, D, - F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, - P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z, 

XX century. 

a, b, c, d, e, f, g, h, i, -,-,-, m, n, XIII century. 

a, b, - -, -, - g, h, i, j, k, 1, m, n, o, p, q, r, XVIII century. 

If in a comparison of the thirteenth century with the twentieth 
our discourse is upon the matters A, B, C and D we may find their 
insights, a, b, c, d, singularly like our own. The case may be the 
same for the matters G, H, I compared with g, h, i. But if, by chance, 
we are comparing their insight e with our absence of insight, or our 
X, Y, Z, with the blanks in their experience, we are astonished at the 
difference of outlook. 

This formal and unimaginative illustration may not be quite useless 
in clarifying one's thought upon a matter easy to express in words 
and exceedingly difficult to realize. It is essential to admit the pres- 
ence of blanks in the experience of past centuries ; and also the presence 
of insights upon fundamental matters which are astonishingly different 
in intensity and in quality from our own. The experience of the 
thirteenth century was handed onwards to succeeding ages ; it could be 
understood by the ages near to it ; words continued to mean in the four- 
teenth very nearly what they meant in the preceding century. But as 
ideas changed, the signs for ideas changed with them; and we must be 
constantly on our guard lest we unthinkingly admit an old form as if it 


had the new meaning. Consider, for example, what astrology meant 
to Eoger Bacon and what it means to ns. He had no difficulty in 
reconciling the fateful influence of the stars with a scheme of salva- 
tion for men possessed of free-will. Words had different meanings to 
him and to us. His mind was conscious of no conflict between his 
religion and his science. His religion — that of the thirteenth cen- 
tury — is in absolute conflict with our science — that of the twentieth. 
This one example may stand as a type of many that might be brought 

The Greek architects long ago discovered that a cylindrical column 
looked at from a distance would not appear to have its two sides 
parallel, but that on the contrary these two sides would be hollowed 
in, convex towards each other. A long colonnade of cylindrical 
columns would exaggerate the unbeautiful effect. The Greeks felt the 
lack of beauty and afterwards proceeded to discover a rule for making 
the outer surface of a column convex, so that a colonnade of convex 
columns would appear to the spectator to be comprised of cylindrical, 
or conical, surfaces, beautiful to the eye. This increase of the middle 
diameter of columns was called entasis. 

In the early part of the nineteenth century, an English architect, 
Mr. Penrose, visited the Parthenon, for the purpose of making accurate 
measurements of its principal dimensions. What was his astonish- 
ment to find that something of the nature of entasis had been given by 
the Greeks to the architraves, cornices and other members of the build- 
ing. The long horizontal lines of the friezes were convexed outwards 
in order that they should not appear hollow to the eye. Other hori- 
zontal members were also convexed in order that they should not ap- 
pear to tilt upwards. Similar measurements made on the Maison 
Carree, at Nnnes, demonstrated that like rules were employed by the 
subtle architect for similar purposes. Measurements made on the 
temples of Egypt have shown that their floors are convexed in order 
that they may appear flat. 

The Egyptians, the Greeks and even the Eomans were possessed of 
eyes and senses so subtle that certain architectural devices were de- 
manded by them in all edifices designed to give high pleasure. The 
entire western world was ignorant of these devices until a couple of 
generations ago. With the destruction of Eome, even the traditions of 
these changes were lost, so that all the Gothic cathedrals of Europe 
and every great building erected between the end of the fifth century 
and the middle of the nineteenth were constructed on geometrical lines, 
so to say, and not to satisfy the eye. 

Mr. Penrose's discoveries were made with a foot-rule, not by a sensi- 
tive eye. They have borne fruit in our own time and in our own great 
city. The beautiful library of Columbia University is built on Greek 
principles. Let any one glance along the edge of one of the steps of 


the main approach and determine for himself how far it departs from 
a horizontal line. Our eyes will soon come to demand such curved lines. 
Straight lines will soon seem hollow to us as they did to the Greeks. 
But, note the difference. We have come to our comprehension of such 
forms by literary, by archeological, by mensurational, steps, while it 
was a matter of feeling to the Greeks, or to their predecessors. Certain 
insights and sympathies of theirs have been atrophied in our ancestors. 
Can we say, then, that the appreciation of beauty is as keen with us as 
it once was to other peoples less c progressive,' less ' advanced ' ? 

Instantaneous photography has familiarized us with the various 
motions of the horse. The horses on the frieze of the Parthenon and 
in the paintings of the Eenaissance are depicted in attitudes which are 
impossible. Because the horses of Mr. Frederick Eemington's pictures 
are recognized by us to be true to life, does this show a greater sense of 
the beautiful? We have gained our new knowledge by photographic 
and scientific methods, but can we say that our aesthetic sense in this 
regard has become more refined ? Is our analysis more subtle than the 
Greek synthesis? 

We are all so used to the admission of the high sense of beauty 
of the Greeks that we consciously form our standards by what we sup- 
pose to have been theirs. We praise the classic purity of the Parthenon, 
not only the purity of its lines, but of its unbroken color — the native 
color of its marble. But in doing this we forget that the Greeks 
covered almost the entire surface of this pure marble with thick coats 
of color — parts with vivid blues and reds. A model of the Parthenon 
painted in its ancient colors seems crude to modern eyes. But are we 
to conclude that our sense of beauty of color is more keen and refined 
than that of the Greeks, our acknowledged masters? Is it true that 
the rains of centuries were needed to wash off colors carefully laid on 
by the builders so that it is only now, and to us, that the Parthenon 
finally emerges the one perfect building of the world? 

As with Greek buildings so Avith Greek statuary. We are used to 
praise the classic purity of their white marble gods and goddesses, for- 
getting that the most famous statues were made of gold and ivory, 
enameled with images of animals and flowers, with metal bracelets 
and ornaments fixed to marble, or again painted in parts like the 
Hermes of Praxiteles or the Athene at Elis. The ears of the grave, 
serene and august Venus of Melos are pierced for metal ear-rings. 
To us she seems all-sufficing and stands alone. It is more than likely 
that the original statue formed a part of a group — Venus placating the 
wrath of Mars. Do we, in fact, at all comprehend what the Greeks 
meant to depict by their images of divinities ? Would a Greek, return- 
ing to earth, in the least understand the interpretations of the. gesthe- 
ticians? Have we then progressed beyond the comprehension of the 
men who made these marvels ? Is it permissible to take refuge in that 


fatuous phrase — they builded better than they knew — when, in fact, 
' they ' knew exactly what they were about, and possessed a consummate 
technique to express precisely what they chose? 

There is nothing more certain than that the Gothic cathedrals of 
Europe were built by architects who knew their business and whose 
plans were definite and precise. The architects' drawings for some of 
these cathedrals are extant and even the builders' model for one of 
them. It was intended that the towers of Xotre Dame, for example, 
should be crowned with spires like those of the cathedral of Lichfield, 
for instance. But circumstances of various sorts worked to prevent the 
completion of the spires on most of the great cathedrals, and they were 
left as towers, as at Xotre Dame and on the front of York. Our own 
standard of beauty has been fixed by what we actually have seen, and 
if Xotre Dame were now to receive lofty spires as a crown to its towers, 
most of us would find its beauty marred. Are we then to conclude 
that we, and not the architects of old time, are the possessors of the 
truest standards? Shall we say that we comprehend the beauty of a 
Gothic cathedral better than the builder who designed it? 

It would be easy to extend comparisons from the material objects 
of art to the immaterial institutions of society, to contrast our notions 
of justice and of government with those of the ancients, for example. 
We are just as sure that all our social institutions are better than those 
of old time as we are that the towers of Xotre Dame are more beautiful 
in their present unfinished state. But should we not pause before 
unthinkingly accepting either conclusion? 

There is no member of a ladies' culture club in the northwest who 
is not ready to declare that the very essence of classic purity is to be 
found in the unpainted Parthenon or in an uncolored Venus, and 
equally sure that the constitution of the state of South Dakota con- 
tains the quintessence of political wisdom. History throws a doubt on 
the first conclusion and su^crests that it may not be amiss to reexamine 
the last from time to time. ' Progress ' is something more than the 
difference between the state of affairs on a Tuesday, compared with 
that of any preceding Monday. The measure of progress is not the 
discrepancy between the inventories — moral or material — of one epoch 
and of a later one. There is no space here to attempt to say what a 
true measure of progress might be, but it should not have been quite 
useless to suggest that the measure in question is not so simple as we 
commonly assume; that the differences between races and epochs show 
retrogressions in many fields as well as progressions in many others. 
The lesson is simple — so simple that it may even be resented. Yet it 
is so difficult that there is no day that passes without a proof that it is 
not yet learned. 





N his recent report for the Bureau of Immigration, Commissioner- 
General Sargent again calls attention to the dangers arising from 
the inadequate immigration laws of the United States. He contends 
that the time has come when some more effective restrictions must be 
introduced than those that have so far obtained. Although protests 
against prevailing legislation on immigration have been heard for more 
than fifty years, real cause for alarm has, perhaps, existed only within 
recent years. The total number of immigrant arrivals had never ex- 
ceeded one half of a million during any one year previous to 1881. 
Since 1820, we have received 22,932,905 immigrants, an annual average 
of 269,798. During the fiscal year ending June 30, 1905, the total 
number of aliens who entered this country (exclusive of Canadian 
and Mexican immigrants), was 1,026,499, the largest aggregate of 
immigrant arrivals in any one year of our history. At this rate, we 
should receive during the next twenty years the same number of aliens 
that flocked to our shores during the past eighty-five years. As most 
of the newcomers of recent years have belonged to a class having neither 
trade nor profession, and as many of them are totally illiterate, it would 
seem that some very grave consequences must ensue as the result of 
their congestion within an area of a comparatively few square miles 
of the Atlantic seaboard. The attempt is now being made to transport 
many of them to those sections of the United States which can more 
readily absorb them. In just how far the success of this movement 
would mitigate present evils the future alone can reveal. Meanwhile, 
the problems ' arising from the presence of these alien hordes i loom 
so largely in the prospect of our country,' declares Mr. Sargent, l that 
it may be said without giving just cause for the charge of exaggeration, 
that all other questions of public economy relating to things rather 
than to human beings shrink into comparative insignificance.' 

The great danger from this increase of immigration, however, arises 
rather through the change in its character than from mere increase in 
numbers. Once recruited mostly from the United Kingdom, Scandi- 
navia and Germany, the greater part of our immigrant population now 
comes from Russia, Poland, Austria-Hungary, Bohemia, Italy and the 
Balkans. During the decade 1881-90, the proportion of immigration 


from the foregoing countries was about 20 per cent, of the total; during 
the ten years following, about 50 per cent. In 1902 these countries 
furnished about 71 per cent, of the total immigration, a proportion 
exceeded during the year just ended. 

Fig. 1. Diagram showing Changing Character of Immigrant Population 

into the United States 

The accompanying figure (Xo. 1) shows graphically the precipitous 
decline of immigration from northern Europe, the vast influx from 
southern Europe, the proportionate increase from all other countries, 





and the deplorable rise in the ratio (per 100,000 of population) of 
deaths from homicide. 1 

The figure below (No. 2) shows graphically the source and extent 
of the annual immigration into the United States since 1880, the 
annual number of arrivals from Italy being given separately because of 
its special importance in the present inquiry: 

The records of our penal institutions prove that it is not the alien 
as such who adds unduly to the number of homicides in this country; 
they show rather that the alarming increase in crimes of violence is 
due to certain particular elements of our immigrant population. 

Fig 2. Graphic Curves showing Changing Character of Immigration 

into the United States. 

Among the nationalities represented in our prisons, the sad pre- 
eminence for murder belongs to the alien Mexican, 121 of whom are 
now confined for deliberately killing a fellow man, though their total 
number in this country hardly exceeds one hundred thousand. Among 
an equal number of alien Irishmen less than three have been con- 
victed on the charge of murder, and of German and English immigrants 
not more than four in each one hundred thousand are held for this 
grave offense. Among Scandinavian aliens the ratio is still smaller. 
Next to the Mexicans, the Chinese are the most murderously inclined 
of any foreigners present, 65 in each one hundred thousand of their 

1 The curves of immigration show the per cent, each group of race elements 
bears to the total influx of aliens; the curve for homicides shows the actual 
number of persons who met death by homicide in each 100,000 of the total 
population of the United States. The latter figures are based upon the 
mortality statistics of the United States Census Reports. 


number being now held for murder. That there is danger in the 
vast increase of immigration from southern Italy is evidenced by the 
fact that of each one hundred thousand of alien Italians in this country 
50.2 are held for murder. There is no question here of race prejudice, 
as may be seen by the following diagram (Fig. 3). 

Unfortunately, the tendency of immigrants is to concentrate in 
large cities. The proportion of foreigners is about four times greater 
in the 161 cities of over 25,000 inhabitants than in the remainder of 
the country; hence the relation of increasing immigration to the in- 
crease of crimes of violence can 
be best studied through the police 
records of large cities. Naturally, 
such a task is fraught with many 
difficulties, owing to the want of 
adequate data. By confining the 
scope of the present inquiry to the 
effect of immigration on crimes 
involving the loss of human life, 
and by comparing prison statistics 
with the reports of chiefs of police, 
sheriffs and health officers, many 
obstacles, insuperable in any study 
of wider scope, are avoided. 

As the records of our penal in- 
stitutions show which elements of 
our foreign population are most 
given to homicide, those cities 
should have the higher ratios of 
arrests for homicide which con- 
tain the greater proportions of 
aliens from the countries shown 
in the figure to produce the 
greater proportions of murderers. 
But there are many disturbing 
factors to be reckoned with, chief of 
which is the presence in many of 
our cities of large numbers of a socially inferior race of native-born 
citizens,- the negroes. The United States Census Keport on Crime, for 
1880, shows that the tendency among negroes towards crimes against 
the person was 100 per cent, greater than among the native whites. 
The report for 1890 shows that the negroes had been convicted of three 
times more homicides in proportion to their number than had the 
foreign whites; whilst as compared with the native white population 
they appear to have been about six times more murderous. Nearly two 
thirds of the prisoners charged with murder were in the south. 

Fig. 3. Table showing Number of 
Foreigners held for Murder in American 
Penal Institutions, with their Ratio per 
100,000 of Population. 


Capable as many of the better-conditioned blacks are of attaining 
all the virtues of the average white citizen, and, in some instances, of 
transcending them, the American of African descent is, on the whole, 
fully as prone to homicide as are the native Indians, whose savage 
cruelty he does not hesitate, when excited by the lust for blood, to 
emulate. In Lexington, Kentucky, for instance, where 38 per cent, of 
the population are negroes, 13 per cent, of whom are illiterate, the 
annual average of arrests for murder and manslaughter during the 
four years 1901-04 was 40.07 per one hundred thousand of inhabitants, 
the highest ratio of any city of which statistics covering more than one 
year are available. Only 3.5 per cent, of the population are of foreign 
birth, hence the great number of homicides implied by these figures 
can not be attributed to the immigrant population. 

On the other hand, in cities where the proportion of negroes is 
small, the higher ratios of arrests for homicide correspond with the 
higher percentages of immigrants from certain countries. Other things 
being equal, the lower ratios prevail where the foreign element is from 
northern Europe, and the higher ratios are seen where the foreign 
element is from the countries shown above to produce the emigrants 
who are most given to crimes of violence. 

The following table shows the ratios of arrests for homicide per 
one hundred thousand of population in various cities, for the years 
1880, 1890, 1900, and the annual average ratios for the last two or 
more years. 2 

Eeferrino; to the last two columns of the table above, it is seen that 
despite the fact that San Francisco has but a very small negro popula- 
tion (only 0.5 per cent, of the total inhabitants, in 1900), the annual 
average ratio of arrests for homicide is greater than in Louisville, 
Kentucky; or in Charleston, South Carolina, where the negro popula- 
tion is relatively large. This corresponds with the fact that San 
Francisco has a large number of Chinese (about 16,000) in her popula- 
tion; a large proportion of Italians (7,508, in 1900); about 1,500 
Mexicans, and a large proportion of foreign born from various countries 
other than Scandinavian, Teutonic and Anglo-Saxon. 

The latest report of the Sheriff of San Francisco County shows that 
of the prisoners committed to the county jails during the fiscal year 
ended June 30, 1904, 70 per cent, were of foreign birth, while the 
proportion of foreign born in the total population is about 34 per 

2 The proportion of homicides committed would, of course, serve more ac- 
curately as an index of relative criminality, in respect to the crimes of man- 
slaughter and murder, than would the number of arrests therefor. The 
former statistics not being available in many instances, the latter have been 
used as a basis for the present study. The writer's thanks are due the many 
chiefs of police, and others, who have so kindly assisted him in procuring the 
statistics of arrests for homicide in the various cities mentioned in this study. 


Table I. 


San Jose, Cal. 
Springfield, 111. 
Youngstown, ( >. 
Lexington, Ky. 
S;m Francisco 
Kansas, Kan. 
Louisville, Ky. 
Charleston, S* C. 
Trenton, N. J. 
New York 
New Orleans 
St. Louis 
Omaha, Neb. 
Cleveland, O. 
Atlanta, ( ra. 
Chicago, 111. 
Memphis, Tenn. 
Newark, N. J. 
Denver, Col. 
Baltimore, Md. 
Des Moines, la. 
Bridgeport, Conn. 
Jersey City 
Richmond, Va. 
Cincinnati, O. 
Hoboken, N. J. 
Los Angeles, Cal. 
Springfield, Mass. 
Patterson, N. J. 
Savannah, Ga. 
Hartford, Conn. 
Buffalo, N. Y. 
New Haven 
Scranton, Pa. 
Albany, N. Y. 

Milwaukee, Wis. 
St. Paul 

Year 1880. 

Year 1890. 

Year 1900. 

Annual average per 
100,000 for the Period. 




















P. 00 









9.. 5 

1 .3 J 





■ 9.7. 





















7.6 > 





















4. 2 



















. .43 




. .10 











2. 7 



2.2 i 






1 "0 



Ratio of Arrests for Homicide pfr 100,000 of Population in Various Cities 

of the United States. 3 

The table following, compiled from the mortuary statistics of San 
Francisco, shows how large a proportion of the homicides committed 

occur among foreigners : 

3 The annual average ratios of arrests for homicide during the last period 
given are based upon the population statistics of 1900. Due allowance must 
therefore be made for increase of inhabitants in some cases. 



Table II. 



Number of Certain Classes killed. 












Number of Homicides reported by the Health Officer of San Francisco, 

during the years given. 

The figures above show that of the 199 persons who met death by 
homicide in San Francisco during the five years 1889-93 and the two 
years 1902-03, 111, or 55.6 per cent., were of foreign birth, while the 
total foreign born of the city form but 31.1 per cent, of the population. 
The undue proportion of murders among the Chinese is easily appre- 
ciated when it is stated that the Mongolians comprised 28.6 per cent, 
of the number who met death by homicide, while they form less than 
6 per cent, of the population. The mortality statistics of San Francisco 
show that during the twenty-five years 1872-97, there were 169 Chinese 
murdered, an annual average of 18.76. From these figures it may 
readily be seen that the very high ratios of arrests for homicide in San 
Francisco are largely attributable to her alien Chinese population. 
Consulting the District Attorney's Eeport for 1897 (a report which 
happens to be available), I find that 41 per cent, of the charges filed 
for murder and manslaughter during that year were against Chinese. 

The table following shows that the annual proportion of arrests 
for homicide and attempts at murder has varied but little during the 
years given (omitted years imply missing or unavailable reports). 

That the ratio of arrests for homicide has not grown larger in San 
Francisco concurrently with the general increase of immigration from 
southern Europe, coincides with the fact that the proportion of Chinese 
in that city, is growing smaller, and that the great influx of European 
aliens has not yet affected the Pacific coast to any considerable extent. 
Of the 1,025,000 immigrants who landed on our shores during the 
fiscal year ending June 30, 1905, at least 76 per cent, went into New 
York, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Ohio and Illinois. 
Only 431,571 were destined for the west, and but 46,343 for the south. 

This tendency of the alien to congest in the great manufacturing 
cities of a few eastern states is gradually reversing the order of condi- 
tions heretofore existing. Twenty years ago the population of Pacific 
coast cities was much more largely foreign born than at the present 
time, while in the east the percentage of foreign born in urban com- 
munities is increasing. Ten and twenty years ago, as may be seen 


Table III. 


Attempts at Murder. 















£. a. 








O • 





ft oa 

"a. 3 

cr '71 








































1 S7 4 






































1 885 















































1 .0489 










292,1 3 










































































































































San Francisco Police-court Eecord — 1S74-1904. 

by Fig. 4, murders were far less frequent in proportion to popula- 
tion in eastern cities than they are now. In the west the reverse is 
true, because the immigration from southern Europe has had little 
influence on the growth of Pacific coast cities. In Los Angeles, where 
the proportion of native born of native whites is exceeded by only four 
cities (of 100,000 or over) in the United States, the ratio of arrests 
for homicide has greatly diminished, falling from 13.88 per 100,000 of 
inhabitants in 1890, to an annual average of 4.86 during the four years 

Passing now to the Atlantic seaboard, we find in the city of 
Xewark, New Jersey, a conspicuous example of the effect of immigra- 
tion on homicide in a city which owes much of its recent growth to 
alien settlers. In 1900, 29 per cent, of Newark's population was 
foreign born, the foreign-born Italians alone numbering 8,537, since 
which year this element of her population has greatly increased. 

In 1880, when the Italian population of Xewark was very small, 
the ratio of arrests for homicide was but 1.46 per 100,000 of inhabit- 
ants; in 1890 the ratio was even lower, being 1.10 per 100,000 of 


population. During the decade following, the immigration from Italy, 
Poland, Eussia, Austria-Hungary and the Balkans greatly increased, 
and Newark got her full share of all these elements. The police re- 
ports of the period following show an increase in the ratio of crimes of 
violence in general, while the ratio of arrests for homicide in 1900 
was five times greater than in 1890. That this great increase was not 
merely the result of an unusual year is shown by more recent statistics. 
The annual average ratio of arrests for homicide in Newark for the 
six years 1899-1904 was 9.16 per one hundred thousand of population; 
this is on the basis of the population of the census of 1900, more 
recent statistics not being available. 

In New Haven, Connecticut, where the Italian population has 
greatly increased since 1890, the ratio of arrests for homicide has 
about doubled during the past six or eight years. In 1880, the ratio 
of arrests for murder and manslaughter in that city was 1.59 per 100,- 
000 of inhabitants; in 1890, 2.46; and during the four years 1901-04 
there were 4.16 arrests per 100,000 of population on the charge of kill- 
ing a fellow man. This ratio is still quite low, compared with some 
cities of the east, but the increase is very significant, especially in view 
of the fact that the second generation of foreigners is always more 
criminally inclined than the first. 

The relation of immigration to the proportion of crimes of violence 
in urban counties is well exemplified in the various large cities of the 
Empire State. 

In the city of New York, with its million and a half of foreigners, 
constituting as they now do more than 37 per cent, of the total popula- 
tion, and nearly half of whom are from countries other than those of 
northern Europe, we find very favorable conditions for a comparatively 
high ratio of crimes of violence. Consulting the police statistics of 
New York City, I find that the ratio of arrests for homicide has in- 
creased more than fourfold since 1880, rising from 3.6 per 100,000 
in that year, to 6.7 in 1890, and 13.12 in 1900. The annual average 
ratio for the six years 1898-1903 was 13.23 per 100,000 of inhabitants. 
There are no statistics available showing the proportion of these homi- 
cides which were committed by New York's immigrant population. 
Many of the journals of the great metropolis charge the Italians (of 
whom there are now about 400,000 in that city) with a large share 
of the murders committed ; and when it is considered that, as shown in 
a preceding table (No. II.), one out of every 1,906 Italians in this 
country is held for murder, it is apparent that the charge is not without 
foundation. Some idea of the problems arising from such a vast influx 
of aliens as the past few years have witnessed is derived from the 
records of New York's Children's Court. Of the 7,647 children 
arraigned during the year ending December 31, 1904, more than half 
were born in Italy or Russia or of parents born in those countries. 


" Practically all of the material brought into the Children's Court," 
says Mr. Coulter, " is a gift from Europe." 4 

Passing now to the cities which have received few immigrants from 
southern Europe, we find that the ratios of homicides have changed very 
little, and that they are uniformly low. 

In the city of Buffalo, where at least 73 per cent, of the foreign 
born population are from northern Europe, the ratio of crimes of 
violence has remained almost stationary for thirty years. In 1880 the 
ratio of arrests for homicide was 2.60 per one hundred thousand of 
inhabitants; in 1890, the proportion was 3.52; while the annual average 
for the three years 1902-01 was 2.93. 

In Eochester, where 85 per cent, of the foreign-born inhabitants are 
from the United Kingdom, Canada, Germany and Scandinavia, homi- 
cides have decreased relative to the population, the ratio of arrests 
for murder and manslaughter being, in 1880, 2.23 per one hundred 
thousand of population; in 1890, 0.74; while the annual ratio for the 
four years 1900-03 was 1.22. 

In Syracuse, where 77 per cent, of the population are native whites, 
and where about 82 per cent, of the foreign-born are from the coun- 
tries of northern Europe, but six cases of homicide have come under 
jurisdiction of the police department during the past fourteen years. 

Passing south now to the Quaker City, we find that an arrest for 
homicide in Philadelphia, fifteen years ago, was of very rare occurrence 
(0.76 per 100,000 of inhabitants in 1890). Since that time the popula- 
tion of Philadelphia has increased by about 250,000, a large proportion 
of which augmentation has been the result of the increased immigra- 
tion from southern Europe. Of the 295,340 foreigners in Philadelphia 
in 1900, 17,830 were born in Italy, 7,554 in Poland; 28,951 were 
natives of Eussia, while 8,209 were born in Austria-Hungary or Bo- 
hemia; aggregating in all, from these countries, 62,544 immigrants of 
a much lower type, industrially and educationally, and, by inference, 
morally, than formerly migrated to this country. The results are 
shown in the records of the police courts, the ratio of arrests for homi- 
cides having increased fourfold since 1890, the annual average for the 
six years 1899-1904 being 4.93 per 100,000 of inhabitants. 

That crimes of violence increase with the changing character of the 
immigrant population is shown clearly by the police statistics of the 
cities of Cleveland and Cincinnati. In the former city the annual 
average of arrests for homicide during the two years 1903-04 was 9.56 
per 100.000 of population. In Cincinnati the average for the six years 
1898-1904 was 6.23. 5 In 1890 the disparity was still greater, the ratio 
being 4.04 in Cincinnati, and 13.01 in Cleveland. The annual average 

4 ' Alien Colonies and the Children's Court,' North American Review, No- 
vember, 1904, Vol. 179, No. 5. 

B The average for the same period in Cleveland is not available. 


of arrests for murder and manslaughter in Cincinnati during the 
nine years, 1880, 1800 and 1898-1904 (as shown in the foregoing 
table), was 5.56; for Cleveland during the three years for which statis- 
tics are available, the annual average was 10.71 per 100,000 of in- 
habitants. The causes of this disparity may readily be found in the 
relative character and proportions of their foreign population. The 
United States census for 1900 shows that whereas in Cincinnati 35 
per cent, of the inhabitants were native-born of native parents, in 
Cleveland only 23 per cent, belonged to this class. In Cleveland the 
foreign-born formed 46.1 per cent, of the population; in Cincinnati but 
17.8 per cent, were foreigners. It is also worthy of notice, in this con- 
nection, that whereas about 37 per cent, of Cleveland's foreign-born 
population were from southern Europe, in Cincinnati the same coun- 
tries furnished only about 11 per cent, of the foreign-born inhabitants. 
In 1903, 13,651 immigrants settled in Cleveland; and during the 
same year there were 23 murders, 34 stabbing affrays, 45 shooting 
affrays, 56 cutting affrays, while 131 persons were assaulted. In 1904, 
over seven thousand immigrants arrived and settled in Cleveland, 
among whom were 1,464 Italians, 1,098 Hungarians, 1,637 Poles, 826 
Russians, 390 Slavonians, 133 Roumanians and 30 Croatians. During 
this year there were 30 stabbing affrays, 51 shooting affrays, 6 murders, 
91 cutting affrays, and 121 persons assaulted. As to how many of 
these crimes were perpetrated by foreigners is not given in the police 
statistics, but in his report the Chief of Police remarks that — " While 
the records show a large number of the arrested to be of foreign birth, it 
by no means follows that our foreign-born element is a criminal 
element, but that our city is a cosmopolitan one and our extensive 
manufacturing interests have drawn a large laboring class to the city." 
In the report of the Chief of Police of Cincinnati, the number of 
foreign-born among those arrested is given. The report for 1904 shows 
that among the 7,135 white persons arrested in Cincinnati, 4,437, or 
64.04 per cent, were foreigners, though the foreign-born in that city, 
in 1900, formed but 18.61 per cent, of the white population. The 
total number of persons arrested for murder during the year was 31. 
In respect to other offenses, 68 were arraigned for ' cutting with intent 
to kill'; 49 were arrested for ( shooting with intent to kill/ 
There were also 146 arrests for 'cutting,' and 61 for ' shooting' a 
fellow man (with what ' intent ' in these cases is not stated). While 
a large proportion of these crimes of violence were undoubtedly com- 
mitted by the foreign whites, it must also be taken into consideration 
that Cincinnati has a large negro population, numbering, in 1900, 14,- 
482 : and that while they comprised but 4.4 per cent, of the total 
population, the number of negroes arrested during the year numbered 
2,822, or 19.60 per cent, of the total population of the city. 

In the table given above showing the ratio of arrests for homicide 


in various cities, per 100,000 of population, it appears that the pro- 
portion of crimes of violence has not increased in Cincinnati during 
the past twenty-five years. The following figures show that they have 
at least increased in numbers. The police-court records show that 
during the twenty-one years 1884-1904, there were 335 arrests for 
murder in Cincinnati, an annual average of 15.95. During the ten 
years 1895-190-1 the annual average was 17. The annual average for 
the four vears 1901-04 was 21. 

In Minneapolis, where nearly 90 per cent, of the foreign-born 
population are from northern Europe, and where there are neither 
Chinese, Italians, nor negroes, homicides are proportionately rare, the 
ratio of arrests for murder and manslaughter being in 1880, 2.13 ; and 
in 1901 less than one per one hundred thousand of inhabitants. In 
Milwaukee, where over 60 per cent, of the foreign population are Ger- 
mans, the annual average ratio of arrests for homicides during the 
seven years 1898-1901 was 1.77 per one hundred thousand of inhabit- 
ants. This is more than twice the proportion occurring in Minneapolis ; 
but Milwaukee has about twice the proportion of immigrants from 
southern Europe that Minneapolis has. In 1880, when there were 
comparatively few immigrants in Milwaukee from Italy, Poland, Eussia 
or the Balkans, the ratio of arrests for homicides was 0.87 per one 
hundred thousand of population, and, as late as 1890, the ratio was 
but 0.97. 

Although there is no city in the state of Kansas ranking in popula- 
tion with the cities here studied, for the sake of its instructive example 
the city of Kansas, as the largest city in the state, may be given 
special mention. During the two years ending October 31, 1905, the 
annual average of homicides (not the number of arrests therefor) 
was 17.61 per one hundred thousand of inhabitants. An inquiry ad- 
dressed to Chief-of-Police Yernon J. Eose, evoked the reply that at 
least four fifths of these homicides were committed by the immigrant 
and negro population, who comprise, together, over 25 per cent, of the 
total population of the city. About 40 per cent, of the 9,000 employees 
of the six great packing houses are natives of Eussia, Greece, Poland, 
Croatia, Bulgaria and Hungary, and Chief-of-Police Eose states that 
it is among these ' Bohunks ' (the local term which comprehends these 
races as a group) that nearly all of the homicides among the whites 

In Providence (E. I.), where the Italians comprise more than ten 
per cent, of the foreign population, and where 38.1 per cent, of the 
total inhabitants are of foreign birth, the ratio of arrests for homicide 
is lower than in Boston, the annual average of arrests for homicide 
in Providence being, for the four years 1901-04, 1.70; and for Boston 
(during the two years 1904-05) 1.98 per one hundred thousand of 
inhabitants. But in Bhode Island, as a whole, the proportion of 

I 72 


population held for homicide is greater than in Massachusetts, the 
ratio for the former state being 0.57 per one hundred thousand of 
inhabitants, and for the latter 0.39. In Rhode Island the Italians 
comprise 11.58 per cent, of the convicts held for homicide, and but 
2.09 per cent, of the total population. In Massachusetts the Italians 
form but 1 per cent, of the total population, and 26.1 per cent, of 
the convicts held for homicide. 

Next to Nevada, Colorado has the highest ratio of deaths from 
violence of any state or territory in the continental Union. But the 
ratio of arrests for murder and manslaughter in her chief city, 
Denver, is comparatively low, the annual average ratio for the three 
years 1903-05 being 8.21 per one hundred thousand of inhabitants. 
It is a significant fact that there are but five cities of her class in the 
United States which have a larger proportion of native white inhabit- 

i : i#j ffi : Eniii55:fgw^ ^ffi##^^ 

m mnm^nTmmTimiittmi<irntrt*w!^Tirrrr:t ?» 

ferwfe' '/Mrieai'- 

I I I H |l i ! l ili uiu:l! ' ii ' u i . mum 
niumtimrfilfettatiiri u 1 1 1 1 1 1 

Fig. 4. Per cent, which the Total Number of Persons of Both Sexes engaged in 
Manufacturing and Mechanical Pursuits Proper and in Mining and Quar- 
rying bears to the Total Number engaged in Gainful Occupations, by 
States and Territories, 1900. (States and Territories are given in the 
order of their progressive criminality in respect to homicidal crimes.) 


ants born of native parents. Only 19 per cent, of Denver's population 
are foreign born. 

The question may well be raised: Why has the state of Colorado so 
high a ratio of deaths from violence (52.5 per one hundred thousand of 
population), and Denver so few arrests for crimes of violence? It 
may be replied that homicide is not naturally frequent in urban com- 
munities, but prevails in sparsely settled regions, or in mining dis- 
tricts. In general, homicides decrease as the proportion of persons 
engaged in manufacturing increases, and increase as the proportion of 
persons engaged in mining increases. 

The figure above illustrates this principle, the states and terri- 
tories being arranged according to the annual average of deaths from 
homicide during the decade 1890-99, the District of Columbia having 
the smallest number of deaths from violence, and Nevada the highest 

Fig. 5. Scale showing Per cent, of Foreign-born Population (from Northern Europe, 
United Kingdom, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Germany), and from the Dominion 
of Canada, by States and Territories, arranged according to their pro- 
gressive criminality in respect to annual average homicides 
committed therein during the decade 1*90-1899. 


ratio per one hundred thousand of population. (The ratios were com- 
puted on the basis of statistics of crimes of violence compiled and 
published by the Record-Herald, of Chicago.) The white bars show 
the proportion of the population who, according to the United States 
census for 1900, were engaged in manufacturing pursuits, and the 
black bars indicate the percentage engaged in mining and quarrying : 

It will be observed that Pennsylvania and West Virginia are the 
only states in the Union which are engaged extensively in mining, and 
yet have a comparatively low ratio of homicides. This is largely due 
to the fact that the mining districts in these states are adjacent to well- 
populated and comparatively cultured communities, whereas in the 
West, the mines are situated in states or territories which contain few 
or no large cities, and wherein the rural population is of a rather low 
order. Colorado, for example, has but one large city, and is one of the 
five most sparsely settled states or territories of the (continental) 
Union; whereas Pennsylvania, on the other hand, has more towns of 
over 4,000 population than any other state, giving it the highest per 
cent, of urban population of any commonwealth in the Union with the 
exception of New York. Again, whereas West Virginia has 38.9 
persons to the square mile, Nevada has 0.4. 6 

Consistently with all that has herein been stated, we find the greater 
percentages of foreign-born who are most given to crimes of violence in 
the very states shown to produce the greater proportion of homicides, 
and most of which are engaged most extensively in mining, as may be 
seen by comparing Pig. 7 with the one preceding. 

Not wishing needlessly to multiply examples and evidences, it may 
be said in conclusion that, however desirable the hundreds of thousands 
of ignorant immigrants annually landed on our shores may be from 
an economic standpoint, as ' much-needed laborers/ or, however chari- 
tably we may personally feel toward the hordes of hapless human 
beings who seek to better their condition by coming to this land of 
freedom and opportunities, such a vast addition of untutored and 
poverty-stricken people, unused to self-restraint, can not be absorbed 
without a material increase in crimes of violence throughout the United 
States, and especially in the large cities, where the recent immigration 
has for the greater part congested. It is to be hoped that the evidences 
of the Children's Court of New York City, and of police statistics in 
general, are symptoms rather of conditions to be remedied than of 
evils destined to grow more portentous. 

6 The Report of Warden C. E. Haddox, of the West Virginia State Peni- 
tentiary, for 1903-04, shows that the five counties in which mining industries 
predominate, with a total population of 139,812, sent 419 persons; while 
sixteen other counties, whose population is engaged in agriculture or other 
equally stable pursuits, numbering in all 205,175 persons, are represented by 
28 convicts. In the mining counties one person in every 333 was sent to the 
penitentiary; in the sixteen bounties mentioned, one in each 7,327 of popula- 
tion was sent to prison — a difference as great as 300 is to 13. 



By Professor SOLON I. BAILEY, 


fT^HE ancient philosophers taught that the celestial bodies were ' in- 
-*- corruptible and eternal,' not subject to change, as are all ter- 
restrial objects. In more recent times the stars "were regarded merely 
as convenient points of reference for the determination of the motions 
of the planets. In this way they became known as the fixed stais. 
Relatively, they are indeed fixed; absolutely, all are in motion. Their 
light remains constant, also, for the most part, so that, if Hipparchus 
or Ptolemy should come back to earth after 2,000 years, he would 
probably notice few changes in the positions or brightness of the stars. 

Any one who observes the sky carefully, through a period of years, 
is sure to be deeply impressed with the absence of change. Neverthe- 
less, there are many stars which undergo more or less regular changes 
in brightness, and such objects are known as variable stars. In some 
cases the whole cycle of change takes place within a few hours, while in 
other cases it consumes months, or even years. The amount of the 
variation, also, varies enormously, ranging all the way from zero to 
many magnitudes, how many is not known. It is possible, even prob- 
able, that at minimum the light of some variable may, for us at least, 
be entirely extinguished. Mr. J. A. Parkhurst found that the variable 
V Delphini was invisible at its minimum of 1,900 in the forty-inch 
refractor of the Yerkes Observatory. This, it is estimated, would 
make it fainter than the seventeenth magnitude. Since its light at 
maximum is of about the seventh magnitude, this implies a range of at 
least ten magnitudes. Other stars vary as much or more. A change 
of ten magnitudes means that at maximum its light is 10,000 times 
as great as that at minimum. To illustrate this we may imagine a 
room illuminated by 1,000 ten-candle power electric lamps, and that 
these are replaced by the light of a single candle. To reduce the light 
of our sun by ten magnitudes would be equivalent to increasing its 
distance 100 times, or to more than 9,000,000,000 miles. At such a 
distance its apparent size would be less than the present mean size of 
Jupiter or Venus. Fortunately our sun, if a variable star as seems 
probable, has a small range of variation. 

The general problem of variable stars may be divided into three 
parts — the discovery of the variables, the observation of all the phe- 
nomena involved, and the search for the causes. The present genera- 


tion, thanks to the powerful aid of photographic methods, may hope 
to bring near completion the first part of the problem, and to make 
good progress on the two remaining portions. 

The existence of a variable star was probably first recognized by 
Holwarda of Franeeker, in 1639. The number was slowly increased, 
and some knowledge of their nature learned during the next two cen- 
turies. Their observation was placed on a scientific basis through the 
labors of various astronomers, especially Argelander and Schonfeld. 
The latter astronomer issued, in 1865, a catalogue of 113 variables, and 
later, one of 165 variables, which included all stars then known to be 
variable. The list was enlarged, in 1883, at the Harvard Observatory 
by the addition of forty-eight variables. In 1888 Dr. S. C. Chandler 
published his first catalogue of variable stars, 225 in number, which had 
been discovered by some thirty different observers in various countries, 
by visual methods. Many of these observers have continued their in- 
vestigations till the present time — the most successful in the line of 
discovery being Dr. T. D. Anderson, of Edinburgh, who by visual 
means alone has found forty new variables, a result truly remarkable. 1 

About the year 1889, however, began a rapid increase in the number 
of variables through the introduction of photographic methods. The 
first notable addition was made by Mrs. Fleming, through the examina- 
tion of the photographic spectra of the stars, while engaged in the 
work of the Henry Draper Memorial, a research carried on at the 
Harvard Observatory under the direction of Professor E. C. Pickering. 
By means of an objective prism, placed in front of the lens of a photo- 
graphic telescope of large aperture and short focal length, photographs 

1 Although the subject of variable stars is now under investigation at many 
observatories, there is still a wide field in this line of research for amateur 
astronomers. It is true the light-curves of many variables are now fairly 
well known, but new ones are constantly being discovered, the study of which 
offers an interesting field of investigation. It is necessary, in order to accom- 
plish results of scientific value, that the observations be made, not only with 
enthusiasm, but with an intelligent conception of the future use to which they 
must be put. The observations need to include only two things, a record of the 
time, and the most precise determination possible of the brightness of the 
variable. The estimate of magnitude is usually made by referring the light of 
the variable to that of one or more adjacent stars, whose light is constant. For 
this purpose a series of adjacent comparison stars is selected, forming a se- 
quence from bright to faint stars, and their brightness is carefully determined. 
It is very important that these magnitudes be reduced to the photometric scale. 
For identification of the stars the star charts of Father Hagen are admirable. 
Marked photographs are also extremely useful. 

The discovery of new variables offers, perhaps, a line of work even more 
fascinating than the investigation of the peculiarities of those already found. 
Brilliant work has been done in this direction by amateurs, but at the present 
time much more can be accomplished by photographic than by visual means. 
Among those who have done work of special value, in this country, may be 
mentioned Chandler, H. M. Parkhurst, J. A. Parkhurst, Sawyer and Yendell. 
Abroad, the number of amateur observers is large. 


were obtained which showed well the characteristics of scores of spectra 
on a single plate. Variable stars of long period were found to have 
spectra in which the hydrogen lines were bright, when the variables were 
near maximum. By taking advantage of this spectral peculiarity Mrs. 
Fleming has been able to " pick up/ as a by-product of other investiga- 
tions concerning stellar spectra, some 200 variables of long period. 

In 1895, the writer, while engaged in photographic work at the 
Arequipa Station of the Harvard Observatory, began an examination 
of photographs of the globular clusters of stars. By the use of im- 
proved devices for controlling the motion of the telescope, satisfactory 
photographs were obtained of the dense globular clusters. An ex- 

The Globular Cluster, to Centauri, containing 128 Variable Stars. To the naked eye 
this cluster appears as a single hazy star of the fourth magnitude. 

animation of these led to striking results. It was found that while 
certain clusters contained few or no variable stars, other similar 
clusters were closely packed with them. Messier 3, a faint group, 
barely visible as a hazy star to the naked eye, was found to contain 137 
variables out of 900 stars examined, or about one in every seven stars. 
This is by far the greatest proportion of variables yet found anywhere 
in the sky. Over 500 variable stars have been found so far in dense 
globular clusters, and, undoubtedly, these do not entirely exhaust the 

Madame L. Ceraski, wife of the director of the astronomical ob-. 
servatory of Moscow, has found a large number of variables by an 
examination of photographs made by M. Blajko, of the same observa- 

VOL. LXIX. — 12. 


tory. Madame Ceraski has been especially successful in finding vari- 
ables of the interesting Algol type. Of sixty-seven variable stars dis- 
covered by her, no less than ten are of this class. This is remarkable 
when we take into consideration that of over 3,000 variables now 
known only thirty-eight are of the Algol type. 

Through her generous gifts in aid of astronomical research, the 
late Miss Catherine W. Bruce, of New York, made her name widely 
known in astronomical circles. Dr. Max Wolf, director of the Astro- 
physical Observatory at Heidelberg, was presented by her with a photo- 
graphic telescope, which has enabled him not only to find some seventy 
new asteroids, but also to increase materially the number of known 

The Small Magellanic Cloud in which nearly a Thousand Variable Stars 

have been found. To the right is the globular cluster, 47 Tueanse, 

taken at Arequipa in the bruce telescope. 

variables. Dr. Wolf, recently assisted by Frau G. Wolf, has discovered 
about 200 new variable stars. 

Nowhere else, however, has so large a collection of celestial photo- 
graphs been made, covering so long a period of time, as at the Harvard 
Observatory. In 1903, Professor Pickering instituted, among other 
pieces of work, an examination of the Magellanic Clouds. This work 
was assigned to Miss H. S. Leavitt, who has shown rare talent for this 
line of investigation. The regions selected were very fortunate, also, 
since, aside from the dense globular clusters, no other region has been 
found as rich in variables as the Small Cloud, although the Large Cloud 
•also promises to yield nearly as many. It should be noted that the 
Magellanic Clouds are by no means merely irregular extensions of the 
Milky Way. They appear to be as unique in structure as in position. 



Altogether Miss Leaviti has added 1,500 new variables to the already 
rapidly growing list. 

It may be asked, why it is necessary, or even desirable, to go on 
indefinitely with the discovery of new variables. The answer is that, 
aside from the value of adding any new fact about the universe to the 
sum of human knowledge, the problem is now so well advanced that it 
seems unwise not to render the search complete for the whole sky. 
A serious international attempt is about to be made, for the first time, 
to investigate systematically all the leading problems concerned in 
the construction of the universe, so that a scientific cosmogony may be 
possible. It will be of value in this greatest of all problems to find 




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3i* 3. CJUeJtjOLVoAioWl 0$ C UCWvu- Mo. 130. ^.CJWsfalVaxA- ^«M^ * No. M,. 
Velocity curves and Light-curves of Variable Stars. (The light-curves are inverted.) 

the discussion of the variable stars reasonably complete for the whole 
sky. At the Harvard Observatory, where variable stars have been 
given serious attention during more than twenty years, a new cata- 
logue, compiled by Miss Cannon, is in course of publication, which 
contains reference to about 1,850 variables. This does not include the 
variable stars in the Magellanic Clouds. Also, a committee of the 
Astronomische -GeseUschaft. consisting of the well-known astrono- 
mers, Duner, Midler, Oudermans and Hartwig, have in hand the 
preparation of a catalogue, which will be an extension of the former 
catalogues of Chandler. 

The work of discovery, however arduous, is but a small part of the 
whole problem of the variable stars. Long series of observations are 
necessary, in order to learn the amount, duration and rapidity of the 
light-changes, or, in other words, to determine the light-curve. 



Recent advances in methods of research have also made possible 
the study of various other phenomena, in addition to the variability in 
brightness. All available information will be needed to assist us in 
finding the true explanation of the changes. Especially must we study 
the spectra of these stars, and the changes in the spectra at different 
phases of the light-curve, as well as the motions of the stars in the line 
of sight. For a long time it has been known that the radial motion of 
any bright body may be studied from the shifting positions of the 
spectral lines. This principle is proving of great importance in dif- 
ferent branches of astronomy. Only recently, however, and in few 
cases has this crucial method been applied to the problem of variable 
stars ; yet it appears that the true solution of the difficulties must await, 
in many cases, the application of this method of research. 

The determination of these different phenomena — the light-curve, 
the velocity-curve and the spectrum — is often carried on without 
special reference to the physical causes which produce them. But it 



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will be convenient in what follows to refer to the phenomena and the 
probable causes together. No final classification of variable stars is 
possible at the present time, since such a classification would doubtless 
be based on the physical causes which underly the phenomena, and 
these are known in comparatively few cases. The division proposed 
by Professor Pickering, in 1881, is as convenient as any for our pur- 
poses. He placed them all in the following classes : 

I. New stars. 

II. Long-period variables, undergoing great variations in light. 

III. Stars undergoing slight changes, according to laws as yet 
little understood. 

IV. Short-period variables of the (3 Lyra? type. 

V. Algol stars. 



Reference will be made in what follows only to classes II., IV. 
and V. New stars may well be considered as a class apart. There is, 
possibly, no sufficient reason for including them among variable stars, 
technically so-called. The stars of class III. are few, doubtful, not 
well understood, and relatively unimportant. 

II. Variable stars of long period and large variation in light are 
perhaps the easiest to observe and the most difficult to interpret of all. 
Many of them are bright enough to be observed, near maximum at 
least, by the naked eye. and the variations are so great that observa- 
tions of the highest precision are not essential for the determination of 
the light-curves. The length of period ranges in general from 100 

\ Cuoui- . 7?U- 



aHL UttUtl 

■ I 

w > 

W ^ 

% \i 

fly oCd 

\: \i I 

Fig. 7. Stars of Type III. and Variable Stars of Type III. with 
Bright Hydrogen Lines. 

days to 400 clays. Some of these stars have been observed by different 
astronomers during the last two centuries, and elaborate investigations 
concerning them have been made by Argelander, Schonfeld, Chandler, 
Pickering, and others. Omicron Ceti, or Mini, The Wonderful, has 
been studied more carefully than any other. Even here, however, 
much remains to be learned. The light-curve of Mira is shown in 
Fig. 1, and is fairly typical of the group. The variations in brightness 
are irregular and a single light-curve can only represent mean results. 
Irregularity characterizes all the phases; the exact time of any return 
of maximum is uncertain, and the brightness at different maxima, and 
at different minima, varies greatly. 

The spectrum of stars of this class is in general of Seechrs third 
type, with heavy banded lines and flutings. A short time before maxi- 
mum the bright lines of hydrogen appear, and persist till the star has 
grown somewhat faint again. At least, this is true of Mira, and of 


some others, and is perhaps true for all. These bright lines, clue to 
incandescent hydrogen, undergo various modifications during the time 
in which they are present. The relative intensity of different lines 
varies greatly in different stars, and also in the same star at different 
phases. Mrs. Fleming has heen able to arrange them in a series having 
ten subdivisions, with R Lyncis at one end, with the H /? and H y lines 
prominent and H 8 wanting, and E Leonis at the other end with H (3 
wanting, H y faint, and H 8 prominent. There are also corresponding 
changes in the distribution of the remaining light of the spectrum, a 
peculiarity which is shared by stars of the same type which are not 
variable. These characteristics are well shown in Tig. 7. 

Their great range of variation makes many of these stars invisible 
when near minimum in telescopes of ordinary size. This may account 
for the custom which has been followed by many observers of measur- 
ing the light only when the star is near maximum. This is unfortu- 
nate, since the determination of the length of the period is not sufficient 
in itself for the solution of the problems involved. On this account 
special efforts have been made at the Harvard Observatory, where the 
observations are carried on by Miss A. J. Cannon and Mr. Leon Camp- 
bell, to get measures of the variables at all the different phases. Even 
thus it is doubtful if the secrets of the changes can be found, until the 
research is made to include a more detailed spectroscopic study than 
has yet been made. A systematic study of a large number of well- 
selected stars is much needed. This could probably be done best by a 
photographic reflector of the largest size. Such a scheme of work has 
been proposed by Professor W. W. Campbell, director of the Lick 
Observatory, and from it we may expect results of the highest value. 
It may be well, also, to study the radial motions of these variables, 
but it is more than doubtful if their variability is in any way asso- 
ciated with orbital motion, such as would be found in binary systems. 
The irregularity in the recurrence of the phenomena seems to preclude 
the possibility of such an explanation. The stars of this class probably 
contain within themselves the causes of their changes. They are, per- 
haps, at that critical stage of development where occasional internal 
disturbances cause tremendous outbursts, especially of incandescent 
hydrogen, resulting in an enormous increase of light. The commotion 
slowly dies down only to return again with more or less of regularity. 
For the details of these disturbances we must await further study. 

IV. Of the 3,000 variables known at present probably the vast 
majority have short periods, that is, periods of a few days, or a few 
hours. The periods, also, are uniform; or, at least, if apparent irregu- 
larity exists at times, this is capable of being expressed by rigorous 
mathematical formula?, rj Aquila? and /3 Lyrge are well-known examples 
of this class. Eecent investigations have shown that such stars are 
binary systems, and that in some way the light phenomena are as- 


sociated with orbital revolution. Belopolsky, and later Campbell and 
Wright have investigated the velocity-curve of ^ Aquilae. From their 
investigations it appears that this variable is a binary, whose period of 
revolution is of the same duration as the period of the light-changes. 
The determination of the velocity-curve is accomplished by the use of 
a slit-spectroscope, which gives a comparison spectrum of some known 
clement, which is also present in the spectrum of the star. Since the ve- 
locity-curve and light-curve are synchronous it might be suspected that 
the light variation was caused by an eclipse of the star by a relatively 
dark companion. This can not be true, however, in the case of -q Aquila?, 
for various reasons. In the first place, the light-curve is not that of 
an eclipsing star. An eclipse must occur when two stars are both in 
the line of sight, at which time the apparent motion would be small or 
zero. A> a fact, the minimum of the star does not occur at such a 
time. The light maximum occurs noticeably later, and the minimum 
noticeably earlier than the periastron of the star. These facts seem 
not inconsistent with the theory that the variations in lights are 
caused by the close approach of the components of a double star moving 
in elliptical orbits, the outburst of light resulting from some tidal 
disturbance incited by the enormously increased mutual attractions of 
the two bodies. An objection to this explanation is that under these 
circumstances the outburst would probably manifest itself by the pres- 
ence of bright lines in the spectrum at maximum, as is the case with 
long-period variables. Small evidence exists that this is true. An- 
other difficulty is found by a comparison of the curves of velocity and 
light, as determined by Wright and Schur. The former is a smooth 
curve, while the latter has a secondary maximum. That this may be 
due in part to an error in the form of the light-curve as given by 
Schur, seems not impossible, if we compare it with the light-curve of 
the same star as determined by Pickering with a polarizing photometer. 
The latter curve shows merely an indication of a secondary maximum. 
It may be true, of course, that the secondary maximum is sometimes 
present, at other times absent. That the relation between the curves 
of motion and light may be most intimate, in some cases at least, is 
beautifully shown by the variable to Sagittarii. The velocity-curve of 
this star was determined by Dr. Curtiss, of the Lick Observatory. As 
pointed out by him, the velocity-curve, and the light-curve determined 
by Professor Pickering, show a close resemblance even in the details, 
which proves conclusively that both phenomena are associated with the 
same underlying causes. Incidentally, a striking proof is furnished of 
the accuracy of these two widely separated investigations, thus critically 
compared. These curves are shown in Fig. 5. 

(3 Lyra3 represents a somewhat different variety of the short-period 
variable. This star has been studied for more than a century and still 
remains something of a mystery. The spectrum is complex, the lines 


showing displacement, apparently due to the motions of the bright 
components of a close binary. These displacements were explained 
in 1891 by Pickering as the result of the revolution of the unlike com- 
ponents of a binary system, having a relative velocity of 300 miles per 
second, and a radius of 50,000,000 miles. Belopolsky has also in- 
vestigated this object, obtaining results which differ somewhat from 
those given above. Professor G. W. Myers has made a mathematical 
discussion of the problem, reaching the conclusion that the phenomena 
can be explained on the theory of a binary system, composed of two 
gaseous, scarcely separated, components of different masses, mutually 
eclipsing each other during their revolutions. Indeed the two com- 
ponents may not have separated, but exist still as a single body of 
unusual form, such as Poincare's, or Darwin's figures of equilibrium. 
The problem is extremely complicated, and well illustrates the almost 
infinite diversity which is met with in the various problems about 
variable stars. The binary character of this type of variables seems sure 
in many cases, while in others even three bodies appear to be present; 
but the details involved are still in doubt. 

The variable stars found in clusters have periods ranging for the 
most part from ten to fourteen hours. The elements of about 300 of 
them have been determined by the writer. The uniformity of the 
periods found in the same cluster is remarkable, pointing unmistakably 
to a common cause. What that cause is has not yet been found. The 
form of light-curve is shown in Pigs. 3 and 4. Owing to the faintness 
of these stars, which generally vary between the twelfth and fifteenth 
magnitudes, it has not yet been possible to determine either the nature 
of the spectrum or the radial motion. The light-curve shows no in- 
dication of eclipsing phenomena. The uniformity in the period, traced 
in many cases through more than 5,000 returns of maximum, points 
to axial rotation or orbital revolution. Variability might result, un- 
doubtedly, from the rotation of an elliptical, or unevenly luminous 
body; but the light-curves of cluster variables are difficult of explana- 
tion on this theory. They may be binaries with small, elliptical orbits, 
but even this is hardly consistent with the form of light-curve. The 
rejection of these hypotheses, nevertheless, seems to leave the phe- 
nomena without plausible explanation. A few cluster variables have 
been found where the maxima succeed each other at intervals of about 
six hours, one half the usual period. This indicates pretty clearly a 
double variable with alternating maxima, both components having the 
same period. These apparently accidental cases of duplicity may throw 
some light on the physical condition of all these stars. 

V. Of the Algol variables Algol itself is a good example. Its 
light usually remains at a uniform brightness of the second magnitude, 
but once in a little less than three days it falls to the third magnitude, 
where it remains for some twenty minutes before beginning to regain 


its brightness. The whole time for the decrease and the restoration of 
light is about ten hours. The form of this light-curve points unmis- 
takably to the eclipse of a bright star by a relatively dark companion. 
This explanation, first proposed by Goodricke, was developed by Picker- 
ing, and proved spectroscopically by Vogel. Dr. Alexander W. Roberts, 
of Lovedale, South Africa, has recently developed a method for de- 
termining the absolute dimensions of an Algol binary. The theory 
which underlies the determination is that light takes an appreciable 
interval of time to traverse the orbit of a binary system. For an 
accurate solution observations of the highest precision are essential. 
Precise photometric observations of such objects have been made by 
Professor 0. C. Wendell, of the Harvard Observatory. The cause of 
variation is in general the same for all the Algol variables, though 
there are minor differences of importance. As might be expected, they 
show great regularity. Nevertheless, there are certain secular varia- 
tions from causes not well understood. The period of Algol is believed 
to vary slightly, and Dr. Chandler explains this as due to the presence 
of a third body. M. Tisserand, however, has advanced a different 
theory. He assumes a slight flattening of the globe of Algol, and an 
elliptical orbit for the companion. These rival theories can be settled 
only by elaborate determinations of the light-curve during many years. 
According to Dr. Chase, Algol is at a distance of ninety-three light- 
years. Vogel finds the diameter of each of the components to be nearly 
a million miles, and the distance between them little more than three 
million miles. There are doubtless thousands of binary systems in the 
heavens, one component of which is more or less obscure. Such a sys- 
tem, and it holds true even if the components are equally luminous, 
becomes for us an Algol variable when the plane of revolution passes 
through or near the earth. Such systems are comparatively rare. At 
the present time only thirty-eight are known. The largest variation 
yet found is that of Fleming's Algol, E. W. Tauri, whose light at mini- 
mum is only one twenty-sixth as great as its usual amount. It would 
be possible for a dark companion of the same size as the bright com- 
ponent to completely eclipse it. In the case of v Cephei, indeed, this 
probably takes place, so that the light while the eclipse lasts comes 
entirely from the dark companion. The companion is only relatively 
dark, however, so that its light alone is about one eighth as great as 
the combined light of both components. If the companion, in such a 
case, were completely obscure, there would be a total eclipse of the 
star's light, but no such case has yet been found. 

















When the American Association for 
the Advancement of Science decided to 
hold a special summer session between 
the winter meetings in New Orleans 
and New York City, it was well ad- 
vised in choosing Ithaca as the place. 
There is probably no other university 
in the world with such a beautiful site 
and surroundings, and there are but 
few institutions whose buildings, equip- 
ment and work are of greater interest 
to students of science. Ithaca is not 
far from the center of scientific popula- 
tion, and Cornell is in many ways in- 
termediate between the eastern private 
foundations, such as Harvard. Yale and 
Columbia, and the state institutions of 
the central west, such as Michigan, 
Illinois and Wisconsin. 

Cornell owed its origin to state sup- 
port combined with the generosity of the 
man whose name it perpetuates. One 
of the most beneficent acts of congress, 
notable for its wisdom and because it 
was proposed in the midst of the civil 
war, was the land grant for the estab- 
lishment in each state of a college 
primarily for agriculture and the me- 
chanic arts. The act, approved July 2. 
1802, provided that there should be 
granted to the several states public 
lands, thirty thousand acres for each 
senator and representative of congress, 
from the sale of which there should 
be established a perpetual fund " the 
interest of which shall be inviolably 
appropriated, by each state which may 
take and claim the benefit of this act, 
to the endowment, support and main- 
tenance of at least one college, where 
the leading object shall be, without 

excluding other scientific and classical 
studies, and including military tactics, 
to teach such brandies of learning as 
are related to agriculture and the me- 
chanic arts, in such manner as the 
legislatures of the states may respect- 
ively prescribe, in order to promote the 
liberal and practical education of the 
industrial classes in the several pur- 
suits and professions in life. - ' 

Xew York state received about a 
million acres, and, thanks largely to the 
wisdom of Mr. Ezra Cornell, most of 
the land was held until ultimately it 
yielded over five million dollars. In 
accordance with Mr. Cornell's well- 
known words, ' I would found an in- 
stitution where any person can find 
instruction in any study.' Cornell 
University was established in 1805 and 
j opened in the autumn of 1808. Thanks 
to the wise administration of Dr. An- 
drew D. White, to a loyal group of 
able teachers and men of science, to 
state support and private beneficence, 
Cornell lias become one of the great 
universities of the country and of the 
world, fulfilling as nearly as may be 
the dreams of its founder. There are 
now some five hundred officers and four 
thousand students divided among de- 
partments as follows: the graduate de- 
partment, the college of arts and 
sciences, the college of law, the medical 
college, the Xew York state veterinary 
college, the college of agriculture, the 
college of architecture, the college of 
civil engineering, the Sibley college of 
mechanical engineering and mechanic 

At Cornell University a gathering of 

scientific men could not be other than 

pleasant and profitable. There were in 

j all about 400 in attendance at the meet- 



ings which were held from .June 27 to 
July 3. This is as large a group as 
is necessary or even desirable for the 
enjoyment of those who are present. 
It might, however, have been expected 
that a larger number would have taken 
advantage of the opportunity. The 
chemists, physicists and others who 
held technical meetings came in fair 
numbers, but there were not many who 
attended the meeting in order to see 
the university and the surrounding re- 
gions, to meet their colleagues in other 
departments and learn of the general 
forward movement in science, or to do 
their share in promoting the organiza- 
tion of scientific work and scientific 
men. Thus sections A and K held no 
meetings at Ithaca; the special socie- 
ties whose subjects were included in 
those sections — mathematics, astrono- 
my, physiology, anatomy, pathology, 
psychology, etc., did not hold meetings, 
and the registration in those sections 
was four members. The absence of 
those who are not professional students 
of science was also noticeable and prob- 

ably regrettable. It should be one of 
the functions of the association to keep 
science in touch with the larger public 
and to increase scientific interest 
throughout the country. It was hoped 
that the resumption of summer meet- 
ings would be a step in this direction, 
but it does not seem that very much 
was accomplished at Ithaca. 

Yet the character of the meeting, as 
well as its place, was as attractive as 
could well be. Dr. Welch, our leading 
pathologist, was an admirable presi- 
ding officer and gave two interesting ad- 
dresses. Two addresses were given by 
President Sehurman and one by Dr. 
Andrew D. White. The evening lectures, 
by Professor Carhart on the South 
African meeting of the British Asso- 
ciation and by Professor Branner on 
the California earthquake, were particu- 
larly timely and interesting. The new 
physical laboratory of the university 
was dedicated, and Sigma Xi celebrated 
the twentieth anniversary of its founda- 
tion. The excursions arranged by the 

The Library of Cornell University. 



Sibley College of Mechanical Engineering. 

geologists, botanists, chemists, engi- there was much to attract all who are 

neers and economists were in every interested in science, and those who 

way successful. Thus apart from the were present will remember the Ithaca 

more special scientific programs, which meeting as one of the most pleasant 

in several subjects were very good, in the history of the association. 

The State Veterinary College. 



Beebe Lake and Triphammer Falls on the Edge of the Cornell Campus. 


Government is becoming' more and 
more an application of science. Poli- 
tics are still largely a game and a 
trade ; the kind of science at hand is 
crude and is applied by the rule of 
thumb. But if the proceedings of suc- 
cessive parliaments or congresses are 
reviewed, there is an evident tendency 
for legislation to rest increasingly on 
expert knowledge and to require con- 
tinually greater scientific skill in its 
execution. When the constitution of 
the United States was written, the 
threefold division of the functions of 

the government — legislative, executive 
and judicial — was adequate. Now, 
however, it may be urged that the 
scientific or expert functions are co- 
ordinate with the others. Laws may 
be made by the congress, interpreted by 
the courts and executed by the presi- 
dent, but they should be based on scien- 
tific investigations and carried out by 
scientific experts. 

We are told that municipal govern- 
ment should be divorced from politics, 
and this is doubtless true. A munici- 
pality is primarily a business or engi- 
neering corporation. Its main concern 



is with streets, sewers, parks and 
docks; with schools, hospitals and 

public institutions: with water, light 
and the means of transportation and 
communication. But there are equally 
sound reasons for keeping the govern- 
ment of a state or nation free from 
pclitics and conducting its affairs with 
such skill and efficiency as are attain- 
able. There are certain questions that 
are quite outside the limits of such 
seienee as we now have, for example, 
the desirability of more or less cen- 
tralization, paternalism, aristocracy, 
war or religion. The people may 
legitimately divide themselves into 
parties on such lines. Science may be 
unable to answer the question as to 
whether the government should conduct 
the postoffice, the express business or 
the railways, but when the government 
has undertaken to manage the mails, 
it makes no more difference whether 
the postmaster general is a republican 
or a democrat, than whether he is a 
catholic or a protestant. married or 
single. It would be well if we could 
separate those questions which must 
for the present be settled by party gov- 
ernment from those which should be 
decided by expert knowledge, and if the 
latter could be settled by men having 
the necessary special training. And of 
course nearly all the executive work of 
the government should be done by ex- 
perts, and a large part by those who 
are technically men of science. 

The main questions before the first 
session of the fifty-ninth congress were 
concerned with the extension of federal 
control by the regulation of interstate 
commerce, and may be regarded as out- 
side the scope of this journal. But the 
decisions of the congress rested, or 
should have rested, on statistical or 
other scientific data. In the execution 
of the laws relating to railway rates, 
meat inspection and pure food, a large 
number of trained scientific men will 
be required. The removal of the tax 
on alcohol which has ueen ' denatured ' 
will have an important effect on the 

arts. While we should like to see the 
decimal system of weights and meas- 
ures or even a duodecimal system made 
compulsory, it must be admitted that 
technical opinion is so divided that the 
house can scarcely be blamed for re- 
jecting the measure. Of direct scien- 
tific interest were the bills protecting 
Niagara Falls, the Mariposa trees of 
California and the antiquities on the 
public lands. Although the main in- 
crease in the appropriation for the De- 
partment of Agriculture was for meat 
inspection, its scientific work was 
enlarged in several directions. The ap- 
propriation for rebuilding the Military 
Academy at West Point was increased 
to $6,500,000. A lock canal at Panama 
carried to the height of eighty-five feet 
was decided on, and the sum of $42.- 
500,000 was appropriated for the work. 

We record with regret the deaths of 
Dr. Henry A. Ward, president of 
Ward's Natural History Establishment 
at Rochester, and Dr. Fritz Schaudinn, 
recently appointed head of the para- 
sitological department of the Institute 
for Tropical Diseases of Hamburg and 
well known for his work on the pro- 

The Ordre pour le Merite has been 
conferred on Professor Robert Koch by 
the German Emperor. — Dr. Ernst 
Mach, of Vienna, has been awarded 
the Bavarian Maximilian order for sci- 
ence and art. — Professor Simon New- 
comb has been elected a member of the 
board of overseers of Harvard College. 
—The Society of Arts has awarded its 
Albert medal to Sir Joseph W. Swan, 
F.R.S., ' for the important part he took 
in the invention of the incandescent 
electric lamp, and for his invention of 
the carbon process of photographic 

Axxouxcemext has been made of 
the resignation of Dr. William T. 
Harris, commissioner of education, and 
of the nomination of his successor, 



Professor Elmer E. Brown, of the Uni- 
versity of California. Dr. Harris's 
retirement has been made possible by 
a retiring allowance from the Carnegie 
Foundation for the Advancement of 
Teaching. This action was taken by 
the trustees of the foundation under 
one of their rules which permits of 
such action in the case of extraordinary 
and unusual service to education. Dr. 
Harris has been the commissioner of 
education since 1889, and has, perhaps, 
had a larger and more intimate con- 
nection with the whole body of teachers 
than any other man. The offer to him 
of this retiring allowance was an act 
of the highest regard for his work and 
places his name at the head of the list 
of distinguished men who have accepted 
such retiring allowances from the Car- 
negie Foundation. — Dr. D. E. Salmon, 
from 1884 to 1905 chief of the Bureau 

of Animal Industry, has accepted the 
offer of the government of Uruguay 
to organize a Bureau of Animal In- 
dustry for that country. Dr. Salmon, 
who is at present engaged in scientific 
work in Montana, will start for South 
America about December 1. 

The protocol providing for the es- 
tablishment of an international insti- 
tute of agriculture at Rome, Italy, has 
been adopted by the congress. There 
are about forty governments party to 
the arrangement. Studies will be 
made of all kinds of plant life and 
means of extermination of insects and 
other pests. The institute will re- 
ceive the reports of the agricultural 
bureaus and societies of all countries. 
The Italian government will supply the 
buildings, and the cost to other govern- 
ments will be about $5,000 a vear each. 








r |^HE search for truth should be the goal of our activities; it is the 
-*- sole end worthy of them. Doubtless we should first bend our 
efforts to assuage human suffering, but why ? Xot to suffer is a negative 
ideal more surely attained by the annihilation of the world. If we wish 
more and more to free man from material cares, it is that he may be 
able to employ the liberty obtained in the study and contemplation of 

But sometimes truth frightens us. And in fact we know that it 
is sometimes deceptive, that it is a phantom never showing itself for 
a moment except to ceaselessly flee, that it must be pursued further 
and ever further without ever being attained. Yet to work one must 
stop, as some Greek, Aristotle or another, has said. We also know how 
cruel the truth often is, and we wonder whether illusion is not more 
consoling, yea, even more bracing, for illusion it is which gives con- 
fidence. When it shall have vanished, will hope remain and shall we 
have the courage to achieve? Thus would not the horse harnessed to 
his treadmill refuse to go, were his eyes not bandaged? And then 
to seek truth it is necessary to be independent, wholly independent. If 
on the contrary we wish to act, to be strong, we should be united. 
This is why many of us fear truth; we consider it a cause of weakness. 
Yet truth should not be feared, for it alone is beautiful. 

When I speak here of truth, assuredly I refer first to scientific 

1 Authorized translation by Professor George Bruce Halsted, Ph.D. Copy- 
right, 190(1, by The Science Press. 


truth; but I also mean moral truth, of which what we call justice is 
only one aspect. It may seem that I am misusing words, that I com- 
bine thus under the same name two things having nothing in common ; 
that scientific truth, which is demonstrated, can in no way be likened 
to moral truth, which is felt. And yet I can not separate them, and 
whosoever loves the one can not help loving the other. To find the 
one, as well as to find the other, it is necessary to free the soul com- 
pletely from prejudice and from passion; it is necessary to attain 
absolute sincerity. These two sorts of truth when discovered give the 
same joy; each when perceived beams with the same splendor, so that 
we must see it or close our eyes. Lastly, both attract us and flee from 
us ; they are never fixed : when we think to have reached them, we find 
that we have still to advance, and who pursues them is condemned 
never to know repose. It must be added that those who fear the one 
will also fear the other; for they are the ones who in everything are 
concerned above all with consequences. In a word, I liken the two 
truths, because the same reasons make us love them and because the 
same reasons make us fear them. 

If we ought not to fear moral truth, still less should we dread 
scientific truth. In the first place it can not conflict with ethics. 
Ethics and science have their own domains, which touch but do not 
interpenetrate. The one shows us to what goal we should aspire, the 
other, given the goal, teaches us how to attain it. So they can never 
conflict since they can never meet. There can no more be immoral 
science than there can be scientific morals. 

But if science is feared, it is above all because it can not give us 
happiness. Of course it can not. We may even ask whether the beast 
does not suffer less than man. But can we regret that earthly paradise 
where man brute-like was really immortal in knowing not that he 
must die? When we have tasted the apple, no suffering can make us 
forget its savor. We always come back to it. Could it be otherwise? 
As well ask if one who has seen and is blind will not long for the 
light. Man, then, can not be happy through science, but to-day he 
can much less be happy without it. 

But if truth be the sole aim worth pursuing, may we hope to 
attain it? It may well be doubted. Headers of my little book 
' Science and Hypothesis ' already know what I think about the ques- 
tion. The truth we are permitted to glimpse is not altogether what 
most men call by that name. Does this mean that our most legiti- 
mate, most imperative aspiration is at the same time the most vain? 
Or can we, despite all, approach truth on some side? This it is which 
must be investigated. 

In the first place, what instrument have we at our disposal for this 
conquest ? Is not human intelligence, more specifically the intelligence 


of the scientist, susceptible of infinite variation? Volumes could be 
written without exhausting this subject; I, in a few brief pages, have 
only touched it lightly. That the geometer's mind is not like the 
physicist's or the naturalist's, all the world would agree; but mathe- 
maticians themselves do not resemble each other; some recognize only 
implacable logic, others appeal to intuition and see in it the only source 
of discovery. And this would be a reason for distrust. To minds so 
unlike can the mathematical theorems themselves appear in the same 
light? Truth which is not the same for all, is it truth? But look- 
ing at things more closely, we see how these very different workers 
collaborate in a common task which could not be achieved without 
their cooperation. And that already reassures us. 

Next must be examined the frames in which nature seems enclosed 
and which are called time and space. In ' Science and Hypothesis ' 
I have already shown how relative their value is; it is not nature 
which imposes them upon us, it is we who impose them upon nature 
because we find them convenient. But I have spoken of scarcely more 
than space, and particularly quantitative space, so to say, that is of the 
mathematical relations whose aggregate constitutes geometry. I 
should have shown that it is the same with time as with space and 
still the same with ' qualitative space ' ; in particular, I should have 
investigated why we attribute three dimensions to space. I may be 
pardoned then for taking up again these important questions. 

Is mathematical analysis then, whose principal object is the study 
of these empty frames, only a vain play of the mind? It can give to 
the physicist only a convenient language ; is this not a mediocre service, 
which, strictly speaking, could be done without; and even is it not to 
be feared that this artificial language may be a veil interposed between 
reality and the eye of the physicist? Far from it; without this 
language most of the intimate analogies of things would have re- 
mained forever unknown to us ; and we should forever have been igno- 
rant of the internal harmony of the world, which is, we shall see, the 
only true objective reality. 

The best expression of this harmony is law. Law is one of the most 
recent conquests of the human mind; there still are people who live 
in the presence of a perpetual miracle and are not astonished at it. 
On the contrary, we it is who should be astonished at nature's regu- 
larity. Men demand of their gods to prove their existence by miracles; 
but the eternal marvel is that there are not miracles without cease. 
The world is divine because it is a harmony. If it were ruled by 
caprice, what could prove to us it was not ruled by chance? 

This conquest of law we owe to astronomy, and just this makes 
the grandeur of the science rather than the material grandeur of the 
objects it considers. It was altogether natural then that celestial 


mechanics should he the first model of mathematical physics; but since 
then this science has developed; it is still developing, even rapidly 
developing. And it is already necessary to modify in certain points 
the scheme I outlined in 1900 and from which I drew two chapters of 
' Science and Hypothesis.' In an address at the St. Louis exposition 
in 1904, I sought to survey the road traveled; the result of this in- 
vestigation the reader shall see farther on. 

The progress of science has seemed to imperil the best established 
principles, those even which were regarded as fundamental. Yet noth- 
ing shows they will not be saved; and if this comes about only im- 
perfectly, they will still subsist even though they are modified. The 
advance of science is not comparable to the changes of a city, where 
old edifices are pitilessly torn down to give place to new, but to the 
continuous evolution of zoologic types which develop ceaselessly and 
end by becoming unrecognizable to the common sight, but where an 
expert eye finds always traces of the prior work of the centuries past. 
One must not think then that the old-fashioned theories have been 
sterile and vain. 

Were we to stop there, we should find in these pages some reasons 
for confidence in the value of science, but many more for distrusting 
it; an impression of doubt would remain; it is needful now to set 
things to rights. 

Some people have exaggerated the role of convention in science; 
they have even gone so far as to say that law, that scientific fact itself, 
was created by the scientist. This is going much too far in the direc- 
tion of nominalism. No, scientific laws are not artificial creations; we 
have no reason to regard them as accidental, though it be impossible 
to prove they are not. 

Does the harmony the human intelligence thinks it discovers in 
nature exist outside of this intelligence? No, beyond doubt, a reality 
completely independent of the mind which conceives it, sees or feels it, 
is an impossibility. A world as exterior as that, even' if it existed, 
would for us be forever inaccessible. But what we call objective 
reality is, in the last analysis, what is common to many thinking beings, 
and could be common to all; this common part, we shall see, can only 
be the harmony expressed by mathematical laws. It is this harmony 
then which is the sole objective reality, the only truth we can attain ; 
and when I add that the universal harmony of the world is the source 
of all beauty, it will be understood what price we should attach to the 
slow and difficult progress which little by little enables us to know 
it better. 


Intuition and Logic in Mathematics 

It is impossible to stud}' the works of the great mathematicians, or 
even those of the lesser, without noticing and distinguishing two op- 
posite tendencies, or rather two entirely different kinds of minds. The 
one sort are above all preoccupied with logic; to read their works, one 
is tempted to believe they have advanced only step by step, after the 
manner of a Vauban who pushes on his trenches against the place 
besieged, leaving nothing to chance. The other sort are guided by 
intuition and at the first stroke make quick but sometimes precarious 
conquests, like bold cavalrymen of the advance guard. 

The method is not imposed by the matter treated. Though one 
often says of the first that they are analysts and calls the others 
geometers, that does not prevent the one sort from remaining analysts 
even when they work at geometry, while the others are still geometers 
even when they occupy themselves with pure analysis. It is the very 
nature of their mind which makes them logicians or intuitionalists, 
and they can not lay it aside when they approach a new subject. 

Xor is it education which has developed in them one of the two 
tendencies and stifled the other. The mathematician is born, not made, 
and it seems he is born a geometer or an analyst. I should like to cite 
examples and there are surely plenty; but to accentuate the contrast I 
shall begin with an extreme example, taking the liberty of seeking it 
in two living mathematicians. 

M. Meray wants to prove that a binomial equation always has a 
root, or, in ordinary words, that an angle may always be subdivided. 
If there is any truth that we think we know by direct intuition, it is 
this. Who could doubt that an angle may always be divided into any 
number of equal parts? M. Meray does not look at it that way; in 
his eyes this proposition is not at all evident and to prove it he needs 
several pages. 

On the other hand, look at Professor Klein: he is studying one of 
the most abstract questions of the theory of functions to determine 
whether on a given Eiemann surface there always exists a function 
admitting of given singularities. What does the celebrated German 
geometer do? He replaces his Eiemann surface by a metallic surface 
whose electric conductivity varies according to certain laws. He con- 
nects two of its points with the two poles of a battery. The current, 
says he, must pass, and the distribution of this current on the surface 
will define a function whose singularities will be precisely those called 
for by the enunciation. 

Doubtless Professor Klein well knows he has given here only a 


sketch : nevertheless he has not hesitated to publish it ; and he would 
probably believe he finds in it, if not a rigorous demonstration, at least 
a kind of moral certainty. A logician would have rejected with horror 
such a conception, or rather he would not have had to reject it, because 
in his mind it would never have originated. 

Again, permit me to compare two men, the honor of French science, 
who have recently been taken from us, but who both entered long ago 
into immortality. I speak of M. Bertrand and M. Hermite. They 
were scholars of the same school at the same time; they had the same 
education, were under the same influences ; and yet what a difference ! 
Not only does it blaze forth in their writings; it is in their teaching, 
in their way of speaking, in their very look. In the memory of all 
their pupils these two faces are stamped in deathless lines ; for all who 
have had the pleasure of following their teaching, this remembrance is 
still fresh; it is easy for us to evoke it. 

While speaking, M. Bertrand is always in motion; now he seems 
in combat with some outside enemy, now he outlines with a gesture of 
the hand the figures he studies. Plainly he sees and he is eager to 
paint, this is why he calls gesture to his aid. With M. Hermite, it is 
just the opposite; his eyes seem to shun contact with the world; it is 
not without, it is within he seeks the vision of truth. 

Among the German geometers of this century, two names above 
all are illustrious, those of the two scientists who have founded the 
general theory of functions, Weierstrass and Eiemann. Weierstrass 
leads everything back to the consideration of series and their analytic 
transformations; to express it better, he reduces analysis to a sort of 
prolongation of arithmetic; you may turn through all his books with- 
out finding a figure. Eiemann, on the contrary, at once calls geometry 
to his aid; each of his conceptions is an image that no one can forget, 
once he has caught its meaning. 

More recently, Lie was an intuitionalist ; this might have been 
doubted in reading his books, no one could doubt it after talking with 
him; you saw at once that he thought in pictures. Madame Kova- 
levski was a logician. 

Among our students we notice the same differences ; some prefer to 
treat their problems ' by analysis,' others ' by geometry.' The first are 
incapable of ' seeing in space,' the others are quickly tired of long 
calculations and become perplexed. 

The two sorts of minds are equally necessary for the progress of 
science; both the logicians and the intuitionalists have achieved great 
things that others could not have done. Who would venture to say 
whether he preferred that Weierstrass had never written or that there 
had never been a Eiemann? Analysis and synthesis have then both 


their legitimate roles. But it is interesting to study more closely in the 
history of science the part which belongs to each. 


Strange ! If we read over the works of the ancients we are tempted 
to class them all among the intuitionalists. And yet nature is always 
the same; it is hardly probable that it has begun in this century to 
create minds devoted to logic. If we could put ourselves into the flow 
of ideas which reigned in their time, we should recognize that many of 
the old geometers were in tendency analysts. Euclid, for example, 
erected a scientific structure wherein his contemporaries could find no 
fault. In this vast construction, of which each piece however is due 
to intuition, we may still to-day, without much effort, recognize the 
work of a logician. 

It is not minds that have changed, it is ideas ; the intuitional minds 
have remained the same; but their readers have required of them 
greater concessions. 

What is the cause of this evolution ? It is not hard to find. Intui- 
tion can not give us rigor, nor even certainty; this has been recognized 
more and more. Let us cite some examples. We know there exist 
continuous functions lacking derivatives. Nothing is more shocking 
to intuition than this proposition which is imposed upon us by logic. 
Our fathers would not have failed to say : " It is evident that every 
continuous function has a derivative, since every curve has a tangent." 

How can intuition deceive us on this point? It is because when 
we seek to imagine a curve, we can not represent it to ourselves without 
width; just so, when we represent to ourselves a straight line, we see it 
under the form of a rectilinear band of a certain breadth. We well 
know these lines have no width ; we try to imagine them narrower and 
narrower and thus to approach the limit ; so we do in a certain measure, 
but we shall never attain this limit. And then it is clear we can always 
picture these two narrow bands, one straight, one curved, in a position 
such that they encroach slightly one upon the other without crossing. 
We shall thus be led, unless warned by a rigorous analysis, to conclude 
that a curve always has a tangent. 

I shall take as second example Dirichlet's principle on which rest 
so many theorems of mathematical physics; to-day we establish it by 
reasonings very rigorous but very long; heretofore, on the contrary, 
we were content with a very summary proof. A certain integral de- 
pending on an arbitrary function can never vanish. Hence it is con- 
cluded that it must have a minimum. The flaw in this reasoning 
strikes us immediately, since we use the abstract term function and 
are familiar with all the singularities functions can present when the 
word is understood in the most general sense. 


But it would not be the same had we used concrete images, had we, 
for example, considered this function as an electric potential ; it would 
have been thought legitimate to affirm that electrostatic equilibrium 
can be attained. Yet perhaps a physical comparison would have 
awakened some vague distrust. But if care had been taken to trans- 
late the reasoning into the language of geometry, intermediate between 
that of analysis and that of physics, doubtless this distrust would not 
have been produced, and perhaps one might thus, even to-day, still 
deceive many readers not forewarned. 

Intuition, therefore, does not give us certainty. This is why the 
evolution had to happen ; let us now see how it happened. 

It was not slow in being noticed that rigor could not be introduced 
in the reasoning unless first made to enter into the definitions. For 
the most part the objects treated of by mathematicians were long ill 
defined ; they were supposed to be known because represented by means 
of the senses or the imagination; but one had only a crude image of 
them and not a precise idea on which reasoning could take hold. It 
was there first that the logicians had to direct their efforts. 

So, in the case of incommensurable numbers. The vague idea of 
continuity, which we owe to intuition, resolved itself into a complicated 
system of inequalities referring to whole numbers. 

By that means the difficulties arising from passing to the limit, or 
from the consideration of infinitesimals, are finally removed. To-day 
in analysis only whole numbers are left or systems, finite or infinite, 
of whole numbers bound together by a net of equality or inequality 
relations. Mathematics, as they say, is arithmetized. 


A first question presents itself. Is this evolution ended? Have 
we finally attained absolute rigor? At each stage of the evolution our 
fathers also thought they had reached it. If they deceived themselves, 
do we not likewise cheat ourselves? 

We believe that in our reasonings we no longer appeal to intuition ; 
the philosophers will tell us this is an illusion. Pure logic could never 
lead us to anything but tautologies; it could create nothing new; not 
from it alone can any science issue. In one sense these philosophers 
are right; to make arithmetic, as to make geometry, or to make any 
science, something else than pure logic is necessary. To designate 
this something else we have no word other than intuition. But how 
many different ideas are hidden under this same word? 

Compare these four axioms: (1) Two quantities equal to a third 
are equal to one another ; ( 2 ) if a theorem is true of the number 1 and 
if we prove that it is true of n -f- 1 if true for n, then will it be true 
of all whole numbers; (3) if on a straight the point C is between A 


and B and the point D between A and C, then the point D will be 
between .-1 and B; (4) through a given point there is not more than 
one parallel to a given straight. 

All four are attributed to intuition, and yet the first is the enuncia- 
tion of one of the rules of formal logic; the second is a real synthetic 
a priori judgment, it is the foundation of rigorous mathematical induc- 
tion; the third is an appeal to the imagination; the fourth is a dis- 
guised definition. 

Intuition is not necessarily founded on the evidence of the senses; 
the senses would soon become powerless ; for example, we can not repre- 
sent to ourselves a chiliagon, and yet we reason by intuition on polygons 
in general, which include the chiliagon as a particular case. 

You know what Poncelet understood by the principle of continuity. 
What is true of a real quantity, said Poncelet, should be true of an 
imaginary quantity; what is true of the hyperbola whose asymptotes 
are real, should then be true of the ellipse whose asymptotes are imag- 
inary. Poncelet was one of the most intuitive minds of this century; 
he was passionately, almost ostentatiously, so ; he regarded the principle 
of continuity as one of his boldest conceptions, and yet this principle 
did not rest on the evidence of the senses. To assimilate the hyperbola 
to the ellipse was rather to contradict this evidence. It was only a sort 
of precocious and instinctive generalization which, moreover, I have no 
desire to defend. 

We have then many kinds of intuition ; first, the appeal to the senses 
and the imagination; next, generalization by induction, copied, so to 
speak, from the procedures of the experimental sciences; finally, we 
have the intuition of pure number, whence arose the second of the 
axioms just enunciated, which is able to create the real mathematical 
reasoning. I have shown above by examples that the first two can not 
give us certainty ; but who will seriously doubt the third, who will doubt 
arithmetic ? 

Now in the analysis of to-day, when one cares to take the trouble 
to be rigorous, there can be nothing but syllogisms or appeals to this 
intuition of pure number, the only intuition which can not deceive us. 
It may be said that to-day absolute rigor is attained. 


The philosophers make still another objection: " What you gain in 
rigor," they say, " you lose in objectivity. You can rise toward your 
logical ideal only by cutting the bonds which attach you to reality. 
Your science is infallible, but it can only remain so by imprisoning 
itself in an ivory tower and renouncing all relation with the external 
world. From this seclusion it must go out when it would attempt the 
slightest application." 


For example, I seek to show that some property pertains to some 
object whose concept seems to me at first indefinable, because it is intui- 
tive. At first I fail or must content myself with approximate proofs ; 
finally I decide to give to my object a precise definition, and this enables 
me to establish this property in an irreproachable manner. 

" And then," say the philosophers, " it still remains to show that 
the object which corresponds to this definition is indeed the same made 
known to you by intuition; or else that some real and concrete object 
whose conformity with your intuitive idea you believe you immediately 
recognize corresponds to your new definition. Only then could you 
affirm that it has the property in question. You have only displaced 
the difficulty." 

That is not exactly so; the difficulty has not been displaced, it has 
been divided. The proposition to be established was in reality com- 
posed of two different truths, at first not distinguished. The first was 
a mathematical truth, and it is now rigorously established. The second 
was an experimental verity. Experience alone can teach us that some 
real and concrete object corresponds or does not correspond to some 
abstract definition. This second verity is not mathematically demon- 
strated, but neither can it be, no more than can the empirical laws of 
the physical and natural sciences. It would be unreasonable to ask 

Well, is it not a great advance to have distinguished what long was 
wrongly confused? Does this mean that nothing is left of this objec- 
tion of the philosophers? That I do not intend to say; in becoming 
rigorous, mathematical science takes a character so artificial as to strike 
every one ; it forgets its historical origins ; we see how the questions can 
be answered, we no longer see how and why they are put. 

This shows us that logic is not enough; that the science of demon- 
stration is not all science and that intuition must retain its role as 
complement, I was about to say, as counterpoise or as antidote of logic. 

I have already had occasion to insist on the place intuition should 
hold in the teaching of the mathematical sciences. Without it young 
minds could not make a beginning in the understanding of mathe- 
matics; they could not learn to love it and would see in it only a vain 
logomachy; above all, without intuition they would never become 
capable of applying mathematics. But now I wish before all to speak 
of the role of intuition in science itself. If it is useful to the student, 
it is still more so to the creative scientist. 


We seek reality, but what is reality? The physiologists tell us 
that organisms are formed of cells; the chemists add that cells them- 
selves are formed of atoms. Does this mean that these atoms or these 


cells constitute reality, or rather the sole reality? The way in which 
these cells are arranged and from which results the unity of the indi- 
vidual, is not it also a reality much more interesting than that of the 
isolated elements, and should a naturalist who had never studied the 
elephant except by means of the microscope think himself sufficiently 
acquainted with that animal ? 

Well, there is something analogous to this in mathematics. The 
logician cuts up, so to speak, each demonstration into a very great 
number of elementary operations ; when we have examined these opera- 
tions one after the other and ascertained that each is correct, are we 
to think we have grasped the real meaning of the demonstration ? Shall 
we have understood it even when, by an effort of memory, we have be- 
come able to repeat this proof by reproducing all these elementary 
operations in just the order in which the inventor had arranged them ? 
Evidently not; we shall not yet possess the entire reality; that I know 
not what which makes the unity of the demonstration will completely 
elude us. 

Pure analysis puts at our disposal a multitude of procedures whose 
infallibility it guarantees; it opens to us a thousand different ways on 
which we can embark in all confidence ; we are assured of meeting there 
no obstacles ; but of all these ways, which will lead us most promptly to 
our goal? Who shall tell us which to choose? We need a faculty 
which makes us see the end from afar, and intuition is this faculty. 
It is necessary to the explorer for choosing his route; it is not less so 
to the one following his trail who wants to know why he chose it. 

If you are present at a game of chess, it will not suffice, for the 
understanding of the game, to know the rules for moving the pieces. 
That will only enable you to recognize that each move has been made 
conformably to these rules, and this knowledge will truly have very 
little value. Yet this is what the reader of a book on mathematics 
would do if he were a logician only. To understand the game is wholly 
another matter; it is to know why the player moves this piece rather 
than that other which he could have moved without breaking the rules 
of the game. It is to perceive the inward reason which makes of this 
series of successive moves a sort of organized whole. This faculty is 
still more necessary for the player himself, that is, for the inventor. 

Let us drop this comparison and return to mathematics. For 
example, see what has happened to the idea of continuous function. 
At the outset this was only a sensible image, for example, that of a con- 
tinuous mark traced by the chalk on a blackboard. Then it became 
little by little more refined; ere long it was used to construct a com- 
plicated system of inequalities, which reproduced, so to speak, all the 
lines of the original image; this construction finished, the centering 
of the arch, so to say, was removed, that crude representation which 


had temporarily served as support and which was afterward useless 
was rejected; there remained only the construction itself, irreproach- 
able in the eyes of the logician. And yet if the primitive image had 
totally disappeared from our recollection, how could we divine by what 
caprice all these inequalities were erected in this fashion one upon 
another ? 

Perhaps you think I use too many comparisons; yet pardon still 
another. You have doubtless seen those delicate assemblages of sili- 
cious needles which form the skeleton of certain sponges. When the 
organic matter has disappeared, there remains only a frail and elegant 
lace-work. True, nothing is there except silica, but what is interest- 
ing is the form this silica has taken, and we could not understand it 
if we did not know the living sponge which has given it precisely this 
form. Thus it is that the old intuitive notions of our fathers, even 
when we have abandoned them, still imprint their form upon the logical 
constructions we have put in their place. 

This view of the aggregate is necessary for the inventor ; it is equally 
necessary for whoever wishes really to comprehend the inventor. Can 
logic give it to us ? No ; the name mathematicians give it would suffice 
to prove this. In mathematics logic is called analysis and analysis 
means division, dissection. It can have, therefore, no tool other than 
the scalpel and the microscope. 

Thus logic and intuition have each their necessary role. Each is 
indispensable. Logic, which alone can give certainty, is the instrument 
of demonstration; intuition is the instrument of invention. 


But at the moment of formulating this conclusion I am seized with 
scruples. At the outset I distinguished two kinds of mathematical 
minds, the one sort logicians and analysts, the others intuitionalists 
and geometers. Well, the analysts also have been inventors. The 
names I have just cited make my insistence on this unnecessary. 

Here is a contradiction, at least apparently, which needs explana- 
tion. And first, do you think these logicians have always proceeded 
from the general to the particular, as the rules of formal logic would 
seem to require of them? Not thus could they have extended the 
boundaries of science; scientific conquest is to be made only by gen- 

In one of the chapters of ' Science and Hypothesis/ I have had 
occasion to study the nature of mathematical reasoning, and I have 
shown how this reasoning, without ceasing to be absolutely rigorous, 
could lift us from the particular to the general by a procedure I have 
called mathematical induction. It is by this procedure that the an- 
alysts have made science progress, and if we examine the detail itself 


of their demonstrations, we shall find it there at each instant beside the 
classic syllogism of Aristotle. We, therefore, see already that the 
analysts are not simply makers of syllogisms after the fashion of the 

Besides, do you think they have always marched step by step with 
no vision of the goal they wished to attain? They must have divined 
the way leading thither, and for that they needed a guide. This guide 
is, first, analogy. For example, one of the methods of demonstration 
dear to analysts is that founded on the employment of dominant func- 
tions. We know it has already served to solve a multitude of problems; 
in what consists then the role of the inventor who wishes to apply it to 
a new problem? At the outset he must recognize the analogy of this 
question with those which have already been solved by this method; 
then he must perceive in what way this new question differs from the 
others, and thence deduce the modifications necessary to apply to the 

But how does one perceive these analogies and these differences? 
In the example just cited they are almost always evident, but I could 
have found others where they would have been much more deeply 
hidden; often a very uncommon penetration is necessary for their 
discovery. The analysts, not to let these hidden analogies escape them, 
that is, in order to be inventors, must, without the aid of the senses and 
imagination, have a direct sense of what constitutes the unity of a 
piece of reasoning, of what makes, so to speak, its soul and inmost life. 

When one talked with M. Hermite, he never evoked a sensuous 
image, and yet you soon perceived that the most abstract entities were 
for him like living beings. He did not see them, but he perceived that 
they are not an artificial assemblage, and that they have some principle 
of internal unity. 

But, one will say, that still is intuition. Shall we conclude that 
the distinction made at the outset was only apparent, that there is only 
one sort of mind and that all the mathematicians are intuitionalists, 
at least those who are capable of inventing? 

Xo, our distinction corresponds to something real. I have said 
above that there are many kinds of intuition. I have said how much 
the intuition of pure number, whence comes rigorous mathematical 
induction, differs from sensible intuition to which the imagination, 
properly so called, is the principal contributor. 

Is the abyss which separates them less profound than it at first 
appeared? Could we recognize with a little attention that this pure 
intuition itself could not do without the aid of the senses? This is 
the affair of the psychologist and the metaphysician and I shall not 
discuss the question. But the thing's being doubtful is enough to 
justify me in recognizing and affirming an essential difference between 


the two kinds of intuition; they have not the same object and seem to 
call into play two different faculties of our soul; one would think of 
two search-lights directed upon two worlds strangers to one another. 

It is the intuition of pure number, that of pure logical forms, which 
illumines and directs those we have called analysts. This it is which 
enables them not alone to demonstrate, but also to invent. By it 
they perceive at a glance the general plan of a logical edifice, and that 
too without the senses appearing to intervene. In rejecting the aid 
of the imagination, which, as we have seen, is not always infallible, 
they can advance without fear of deceiving themselves. Happy, there- 
fore, are those who can do without this aid! We must admire them; 
but how rare they are ! 

Among the analysts there will then be inventors, but they will be 
few. The majority of us, if we wished to see afar by pure intuition 
alone, would soon feel ourselves seized with vertigo. Our weakness 
has need of a staff more solid, and, despite the exceptions of which we 
have just spoken, it is none the less true that sensible intuition is in 
mathematics the most usual instrument of invention. 

Apropos of these reflections, a question comes up that I have not 
the time either to solve or even to enunciate with the developments it 
would admit of. Is there room for a new distinction, for distinguish- 
ing among the analysts those who above all use this pure intuition and 
those who are first of all preoccupied with formal logic? 

M. Hermite, for example, whom I have just cited, can not be classed 
among the geometers who make use of the sensible intuition; but 
neither is he a logician, properly so called. He does not conceal his 
aversion to purely deductive procedures which start from the general 
and end in the particular. 

(To be continued.) 





"I T EREDIT Y may be defined as that appurtenant function 
-■ — *- of living matter by which qualities, characters and capaci- 
ties are transmitted through successive generations. The absolute 
identity, or measurable expression, of the inherited characters may be 
qualified by partial and individual fluctuations about a norm in a 
continuous series in the progenies, and these characters, singly or in 
groups, may be subject to dominations, recessions, integrations and 
resolutions in hybridizations, or to various forms of combination, 
actual or apparent. In the case of discontinuous variations or muta- 
tion, single or unit characters, or constellations of them, may be 
activated, or converted into a latent or perlatent condition. 

Methods of Investigation 

Owing to the stimulus of recent discovery, attention is focused at 
the present time upon the ultimate result of fluctuating variability 
as influenced by various agents, in the origin and fate of hereditary 
strains, species, races or physiologically unified groups of organisms, 
and upon the probable part played in the matter by the saltatory 
movements, which are being brought to notice so plentifully in all 
quarters. In connection with the last-named feature, the behavior of 
the individual qualities or unit-characters in hybridizations are being 
studied with enormous zeal as offering a ready analysis of the action 
of inheritance. The comparative ease with which hybrid combina- 
tions of plants are effected, and the simplicity of the subsequent 
resolutions in the progeny, render this phase of the subject easy of 
attack, and results are being obtained, which, if one may judge from 
recent literature, do not seem available to many writers. 

It needs but a moment's consideration to bring the realization that 
the entire subject offers some of the most abstruse and difficult prob- 
lems in the whole realm of biological science. Intricate and elusive in 
their physiological complexity, we may hope to uncover the main 
factors by perfected methods in research upon the ultimate mechanical 
basis of heredity coupled with a refinement of technique in dealing 
with the course of inheritance as we trace it from generation to 

1 Lecture given at Marine Biological Laboratory, Woods Holl, July 20, 1906. 


generation, eliminating guesswork as to parentage, and prophecy as 
to offspring. The first is steadily yielding results of undoubted im- 
portance and is bringing about a renewed interest in the functional 
relations of the components of the protoplast with respect to the 
inheritance of characters. The second method, that of statistical 
observations and experimental methods in pedigreed cultures, has given 
such notable results in the hands of various investigators, that it may 
be truly asserted that it may not be outclassed in value by any form of 
research yet used in investigations in natural history. 

As an explorer, do you wish to ascertain the source, direction, 
character, rate of flow and confluence of a river across your route? 
Surely, you do not reasonably attempt it by an examination of a single 
reach, or from a photograph of a single waterfall. Even so surely 
you may not gauge the possibilities of development, or estimate the 
potentiality or method of action of groups of characters, embraced 
in a hereditary strain, guided by dimly recognized forces for thousands 
of years, by the measurement of a preserved specimen. Physiological 
problems demand analytic methods of observation of living material. 

What ridicule might we not heap upon a botanist who attempted 
to make a study of geotropism from consideration of the dried ma- 
terial in a herbarium. The existence of such a form of reaction 
might indeed be recognized, but what futile inferences might be drawn 
as to its mechanism or the nature of the results. It seems unnecessary 
and superfluous to call attention to a generalization so obvious; yet 
that the necessity is not lacking is shown by the material that crowds 
the pages of our technical magazines and popular periodicals. 

Inadequate Treatment of the Subject 
Before proceeding with the main thesis it will be profitable to 
notice some of the most glaring of the inadequacies of treatment which 
have been recently exhibited, and to call attention to certain unsup- 
ported statements which so far have gone unchallenged. 

A vice-president of the American Association for the Advancement 
of Science, in a recent address, has taken occasion to call up the 
mutation theory, and assumes to have given it a test by " reexamining 
certain groups of birds and mammals, of which I had previously made 
systematic studies, for the purpose of discovering evidence, if such 
exists, of the formation of species by mutation." This author says 
that " for a quarter of a century I have been an earnest field student 
of plants in relation to geographic environment. These studies have 
convinced me that with plants as with animals the usual way in which 
new forms (subspecies and species) are produced is by gradual pro- 
gressive development of minute variations." In regard to this com- 
prehensive statement I may say that I have read practically every- 


thing that Dr. Merriam has put into print concerning his extensive 
and thorough field work in the west, and that I vield to none in mv 
admiration of the wide inclusiveness of his results and the profitable 
manner in which he has treated incidentally the general features of 
the occurrence and distribution of plants. This appreciation is 
heightened by the fact that I have spent many seasons in the regions 
covered by him during the last fifteen years, and that I have carried 
on experimental work in the field and at the Desert Laboratory with 
many of the species which are included in his generalizations. I have 
not been able to come upon the evidence, or record of evidence, upon 
which his sweeping statements relative to plants are based, although 
detailed studies upon the relation of plants to environmental factors 
have been in progress for some time. 

Dr. Merriam does not find any evidence to support the conclusion 
that species arise by mutation. It would be a matter of great sur- 
prise if he had. It would be as reasonable to have demanded of him 
the solutions of problems of respiration from his preparations and 
field notes. Once a mutant has appeared, no evidence of its distribu- 
tion can be taken to account conclusively for its origin. Although I 
have had many mutants under experimental observation, I should not 
be able to speak with reasonable certainty as to the origin of any of 
them, had I not ascertained it by guarded pedigree-cultures. It also 
follows that the systematists who announce and describe new forms as 
mutants, simply from preserved specimens, or from individuals, the 
origin of which is not a matter of careful observation, are following 
a wholly unwarranted practise. Several months ago I had occasion 
to say " that the ' naturalists,' as some zoologists term themselves, 
having made the greatest number of essays to offer a universal interpre- 
tation of the problems of distribution, are to be credited with the 
greatest number of defenseless assumptions. In all genetic and evolu- 
tionary researches too much emphasis can not be laid upon the basal 
fact that the physiological and morphological natures of the two great 
classes of living things are so widely divergent that the derivation of 
universal biological principles from their apparently concurrent be- 
havior must be made with the greatest caution." Nowhere does this 
find better exemplification than in the unedifying results of a recent 
discussion of isolation as a factor in evolutionary action. A number 
of zoologists have assumed to speak of the distribution of plants, with 
apparentlv no basis except ' general information ' to the effect that 
closelv related species do not have the same habitat. This has been 
variously put, but the general meaning is as given. Now such a 
conclusion is so widely inapplicable, and is so loosely guarded, as to 
be wholly without value as a statement of a principle in plant 

VOL. LXIX. — 14. 


geography and floristics. That the actual mechanical contiguity of 
two forms competing for the same conditions of habitat would result 
in some stress is to be taken for granted, but this vegetative struggle 
would by no means be severe enough in any case to eliminate one 
from any region. If the advocates of the idea that closely related 
species do not occupy the same region take this ground on the assump- 
tion that hybridization disturbances would follow, here again would be 
an unwarranted assumption. Readiness of hybridization is by no 
means a measure of consanguinity, and any slight difference of habit, 
so small perhaps as not to be capable of description, might ensure pure 
fertilization. In the case of forms differing by one or a few characters, 
Mendelian splitting might operate to maintain the forms even if 
hybridization did occur. 

The accompanying photograph of Opuntia fulgida and 0. mammil- 
la hi presents two forms so closely related that the latter has been 
taken as a variety of the former by some botanists, but it has been 
found to be a distinct and physiologically unified strain, and worthy 
of specific rank. These two forms are widely intermingled, though 
of course not many instances of actual contact such as appears in the 
illustration are to be found. The flora in the vicinity of the Desert 
Laboratory, at Tucson, presents scores of similar examples among other 
species representing many genera. 

Aside from such misinterpretations, a prolific source of confusion 
lies in the widely different conceptions as to the nature of the taxonomic 
units used in zoological and botanical writings, as a consequence of 
which we have some zoologists calling attention to the supposed fact 
that certain botanists of differing views have no real conception as to 
the nature of ' species ' and ' varieties.' Such statements serve the 
useful purpose of emphasizing the disadvantageous prejudices under 
which their authors labor. 

While such misunderstandings contribute to hinder progress and 
confuse the subjects, the basal and underlying fault consists in the 
fact that taxonomic and geographic methods are not in themselves, or 
conjointly, adequate for the analysis, or solution of genetic problems. 
The inventor did not reach the solution of the problem of construction 
of a typesetting machine by studying the structure of printed pages, 
but by actual experimentation with mechanisms, using printed pages 
only as a record of his success. Likewise no amount of consideration 
of fossils, herbarium specimens, dried skins, skulls or fish in alcohol 
may give any actual proof as to the mechanism and action of heredity 
in transmitting qualities and characters from generation to genera- 
tion, although from such historical data the general trend or direction 
of succession may be traced. 


Misinterpretation of Results 

Beyond such mistaken attempts at an analysis of the problems, 
there is another series of difficulties that interferes materially with 
the advancement of knowledge of the subject. This consists in care- 
less, prejudiced or mistaken interpretation of results, having the 
force in some instances of actual misrepresentation. Such demonstra- 
tions do no final harm, yet they befog a difficult subject: with 
' opinions * and * beliefs,' they are quite out of place in any scientific 

Since I have had (Enothera Lama-rckiana,, one of the plants which 
offer a favorable example of discontinuous variation in unit-characters, 
under cultivation for several years, I am disposed to regard Dr. D. S. 
Jordan's recent statement concerning this plant as of the above char- 
acter. He says " it is not at all unlikely that the original (Enothera 
Lamarckiana found in the field near Amsterdam was a hybrid stock, 
a product of the florist, the behavior of its progeny being not unlike 
that which appears in the progeny of hybrids. It is moreover known 
that the seeds of hybrids of an American species, probably (Enothera 
biennis, the common evening primrose, with other American species 
produced by Mr. Burbank, have been in the past years sold in the 
cities of Germany.'' The well-informed botanist will be in doubt as 
to whether these statements are supposed to lie in ' the plane of ether/ 
or are to be taken literally. If seriously meant, carelessness as to the 
existence of records of the plant in question in several localities, long- 
previous to the beginning of the activity of any living horticulturist, 
is shown. Moreover, material from these localities has been found to 
be in a mutative condition. It is unnecessary to cite facts so readily 
accessible in any well-appointed botanical library. The following will 
be of interest in connection with the statements quoted above : 

1. Xumerous and repeated hybridizations between 0. biennis and 
other species have been made without obtaining anything resembling 
0. Lamarckiana in anatomy or behavior. Several unit-characters are 
exhibited by 0. LamarcTciana not found in any other species. 

■2. 0. grandiflora obtained pure in its original habitat is now giving 
off mutants in the cultures in the Xew York Botanical Garden, after 
p manner generally similar to 0. Larnarckiana. 

3. The close examination of the evening-primroses shows that 
the several species are extremely localized. 0. grandiflora, discovered 
by John Bartram in 1??*. was unknown except in gardens, until re- 
discovered in the original habitat by Professor S. M. Tracy in 1901. 
0. parviflora has been known in Europe at least since 1759 and has 
not been seen in America until 1905, when some undoubted indigenous 
specimens were found in Maine. During the interhn the reasoning 


shown above would have designated these two species as ' hybrid ' or 
' garden products.' 

It is true, of course, that similar finality of evidence with regard 
to 0. Lamarckiana has not yet been obtained, but it does not seem 
4 unlikely ' that it may come to hand when we are able to organize a 
search for it as well-directed as for the species named. Collectors are 
few in the region to be covered, and it might be many years before it 
could be traced to its habitat, even if it occupied a large area. To 
those interested in suppositions, however, the following from Miller 
C Figures of the Most Useful and Uncommon Plants described in the 
Gardener's Dictionary exhibited on Three Hundred Copper Plates 
Accurately Engraven after Drawings taken from Xature,' Vol. II., 
1760) will suggest the need of caution in the matter. He says regard- 
ing the " Tree Primrose with oval spear-shaped indented Leaves, and 
Flowers proceeding from the Wings of the Leaves on the Upper Part 
of the Stalk " : 

This plant is also a Native of North America; but "was the first species 
of the Genus which was brought to Europe, so is more commonly seen in the 
Gardens than any of the other species. In some Parts of Europe, this is spread 
about from the Gardens in such Plenty, that it might be supposed a Native 
there. In a small Wood near Eaerlem in Holland this Plant covered the 
Ground insomuch that many skilful Persons supposed it was a Native of that 
Place. But it may be easily accounted for; because the Gardeners who live 
near that Place, are chiefly Florists, and they annually change the Earth of the 
Beds in their Gardens; so by carrying out of their old Earth from their Beds, 
in which many of the Seeds were scattered the Plants came up there; and 
those being suffered to scatter their Seeds, had filled the whole Wood with the 

This differs from the first Sort, (described and figured as 0. biennis) in 
having broader Leaves; the Stalks grow taller, and the Flowers are much 
larger. Both these Sorts will thrive in the Smoak of London better than most 

The appended descriptions and the plate (Xo. 189, dated 1757) 
very fittingly characterize 0. biennis and 0. Lamarckiana, and as the 
descriptions were made before 0. grandiflora, the only known species 
which might be confused with 0. Lamarckiana, was discovered, this 
evidence is serious enough to give one pause in ascribing a hybrid 
origin to the last-named. Meanwhile the mutation-theory, based on 
the conception of unit-characters, will neither stand nor fall by sup- 
positions or proof as to the ancestry of 0. Lamarckiana. If this plant 
and all of its derivatives were obliterated from our records, the facts 
in our possession well warrant current conclusions as to unit-char- 
acters and their appearance and disappearance in hereditary strains 
in saltatory fashion. 

A certain literary freedom of expression is well illustrated by the 
following citation from a recent article by Dr. Jordan in this maga- 
zine, in which he sa)^s: 


In Mr. Burbank's cross of the English walnut (Juglans regia) -with the 
California walnut (Juglans Californica) the first generation shows a certain 
blending of the traits of one species with those of the other. In the next 
generation appears every conceivable kind of variation in every feature of the 
plant and in every function of its organs. 

The last sentence offers a fair example of the misrepresentation to 
which Mr. Burbank's horticultural work has been so profusely the 
object. A similar progeny of a hybrid oak is included in experimental 
cultures in Xew York, and the observer may readily see that the physi- 
ological possibilities are not exhausted in either case. To illustrate 
the possible variations in form would require many millions of indi- 
viduals, as may be seen when a simple computation shows that seven 
single differentiations would require more than sixteen thousand indi- 
viduals for their exemplification, if the characters behaved as indivisible 
units. If, however, qualities or characters are capable of modification 
or variation, as indicated by the quotation, the number of different 
forms of any organ of the entire plant would be so large as to make 
estimates useless. Then again by what extended experimentation have 
the conceivable variations in every function been ascertained? 

A wider range of literary license prevails in some recent articles by 
Mr. E. A. Ortmann. Among other inaccuracies he says: 

De Vries failed entirely to take notice of this fundamental principle (inter- 
gradation), and to show that his elementary species and his mutations are 
not connected by intermediate forms. 

Although somewhat familiar with ' Die Mutationstheorie ' and 
' Species and Varieties,' no explanation occurs to me to account for 
this mistaken statement. A few combination forms were found and 
faithfully recorded by de Tries, but these were certainly not inter- 
grades, whatever might be said of them. 

Mr. Ortmann's discussions introduce a novel feature, in his estimate 
of the futility of experimental methods, which has the sole merit of 
boldness, coming at a time when the greater number of workers in the 
subject are turning from discussions and statements of opinion to 
actual observations. A mistrust is shown by him of experiments 
' under artificial and unnatural conditions, as for instance in the 
botanical garden, or with domesticated forms.' Several months ago 
the following characterization of this attitude was given in a paper on 
the subject : 2 

Popular belief in the influence of environment and the inheritance of 
acquired characters finds its commonest expression in ' that plants have been 
changed by cultivation.' Domesticated races are spoken of as 'garden forms' 
by botanists and horticulturists, with the implication that they are specialized 
types resulting from the effects of tillage. Now so far as actual cultivation 
is concerned, this assumption is without foundation, since at the present time 

2 ' Heredity and Origin of Species,' Monist, January. 190G. 


no evidence exists to show that the farm, garden or nursery has ever produced 
alterations which were strictly and continuously inheritable, or were present, 
except under environic conditions similar to those by which the alterations 
were induced, although vague statements and erroneous generalizations to the 
contrary are current. It it true of course that structural and physiological 
changes may be induced in a strain of plants in any generation, which may 
persist in a share to the second, or even in some degree to a third, but no longer. 

So far nothing has been offered which would tend to disprove these 

It is by no means intended to maintain that the stream of heredity 
may not be altered by the action of external agents, and the possibility 
of having such changes ensue in experimental cultures beckons with 
alluring finger to the observer. So important do I hold this aspect 
of the matter, that a series of experiments, yet in progress, were 
begun previous to the mutation cultures, and these tests have been 
continued and expanded until one plant is now undergoing culture in 
INTew York, Jamaica, and in connection with the Desert Laboratory, at 
sea-level and altitudes of 2,300. 5.000. 6,000 and 8,000 feet, and under 
conditions widely different from those prevalent in its original habitat. 
If at the end of the decade, this, or any other of the species under 
test, shows any transmission of the characters induced by the various 
localities, the care and work necessary in the experiments will be richly 
rewarded. In this comment reference is had to factors presented by 
tillage, or entering into the environment of plants in their native 

Announcement has been previously made that mutations, breaks, 
saltations or discontinuous action may be caused in inheritance by 
forces external to the protoplasts and cells, which are the true bearers 
of the hereditary characters (see p. 17). 

The technique of the methods by which such changes are induced 
might be simulated by the action of gaseous emanations, from the soil. 
radio-action, foreign pollen, or by the stings and incisions of insects, 
but certainly these possible factors would lie as potent with wild as with 
cultivated plants, as may be seen in the description of the manner in 
which such changes have been produced. 

The Method of Pedigree-cultures 
The importance of pedigree-cultures of plants as a means of tra- 
cing the course and action of heredity has been notably emphasized by 
recent investigations, and it will be profitable to go into a detailed 
statement of the manner in which experiments of this kind are carried 
out. One of the most striking developments of methods of research 
in botany has been the continually increasing extent to which taxono- 
mists are having recourse to observations upon growing material in 
botanical gardens and experimental grounds. In the determination of 


difficult problems of relationship, it is becoming more and more cus- 
tomary to secure the individuals representing the doubtful forms and 
cultivate them under identical conditions, thus securing data for com- 
parison and analysis, representing all stages of development of the 
sporophyte from the seedling to the mature fruit. The record of im- 
portant questions which have been solved in this manner is a long one, 
and includes the investigations of Alexis Jordan on Drab a, Sargent 
on Crataegus, Wittroek on violets. Britton and Eose on Crassulacece and 
scores of other less extensive researches. 

If the observer becomes interested in the hereditary action of his 
plants in addition to a comparison of their anatomical and physio- 
logical qualities, it then becomes necessary to follow his plants from 
generation to generation to ascertain to what extent and in what 
manner variation may ensue. 

The first step in this work is to secure purely fertilized seeds. 
Hybridization is not common among plants except in a few genera, 
yet in tests which must continue for a number of years every precaution 
must be used to ensure accuracy of results. The observer, therefore, 
covers the unopened flower bnds of the individuals from which he 
wishes to procure seeds with bags of paper, or other suitable tissue, and 
then makes sure that pollination is secured spontaneously, or by band, 
with no danger of admixture of any kind. 

In due time the ripened seeds, with photographs, notes and proper 
herbarium material, are taken from the parental individuals. With 
the first lot of seeds on hand, the next step is to make a pure culture 
from them. To do this a quantity of soil of the proper consistency 
is secured, and while in a moist condition is heated to the boiling point 
of water in an oven on two succeeding days, or, better still, to a higher 
temperature in an autoclav for four or five hours. The treated soil 
may now be stored to be used as wanted, but at all times it must be 
guarded from possible contamination by the introduction of foreign 

Seed-pans, of earthenware, or shallow wooden boxes are next se- 
cured and thoroughly washed in clean water and filled with sterilized 
soil, after which they are set in place in a cold frame, or in a green- 
house or germination chamber. As each pan is to be used it is taken 
to a special operating table, and the selected seeds are sown directly 
from the packet, so that from three to five hundred (in the case of small 
seeds) are evenly distributed over the surface. A thin even layer of 
earth is sifted over the seeds, a wooden label is affixed to the pan, 
giving all necessary data, and the pan is returned to its place in the 
culture room. If more than one species is being tested at the same 
time, the greatest care must be used to prevent admixture, and the 
remote separation of the pans may lie necessary. The splashing of 



Fig 1. Seed-pans and Seedlings in Pedigreed Cultures in Propagating 
House, New York Botanical Garden. 

water from a hose, the contact of the nozzle or of the spout of a 
sprinkler, the careless brushing of the sleeve or the hand against the 
dirt, may result in the transference of seeds and the vitiation of the 
results of years of labor and care, especially if a complicated series of 
tests is under way. 

Having observed all the above precautions, the seeds finally sprout 
in due time, unfold the seed-leaves and begin development. The 
remote possibility is to be taken into account that the parental indi- 
viduals may have been hybrids and that this, the second, generation 
may illustrate the resolutions, combinations, dominancy and recessivity 
of the ancestral characters. If, however, no such differentiation be 
encountered the observer has before him a progeny which by the mul- 
tiplication of his seed-pans may be made to include as many individuals 
as might be found in a great geographical area during any season. 
The accurate examination of this material, and of that offered by suc- 
ceeding generations may reveal evidence of the highest interest, bearing 
upon various problems in heredity. It is to be noted that if guarded 
seeds were not obtained for the beginning of the test, the more impor- 
tant work must await the second generation under culture for its 

In even the first examination of the progeny of any physiologically 
unified strain it will be evident that some diversity of form and appear- 
ance is present. This variability is generally of the fluctuating type, 
that is, the entire number of individuals present may be arranged in a 
series with respect to any quality. Thus, if the one with the narrowest 
leaf-blades and the one with the widest are placed at opposite poles, the 


2 1 7 

others may be arranged in a continuous series which shades by the 
smallest increments from one to the other. In making such an ar- 
rangement, it will be found that the greater number resemble, or lie 
near, an individual or group of individuals at some place along the 
line between the two extremes. Statistical measurements of this or 
any other quality may be made, and the position of the norm of the 
type determined accurately, as well as the range of variability. In like 
manner, the correlation between any two characters or qualities may be 
worked out. Xow, having in hand such a mass of data from the initial 
culture, a fair basis is had for taking up various questions. Thus 
a succeeding generation might be grown in soil deficient of any nutri- 
tive factor, or poor in all of them, in rich soil, or in a substratum 
highly charged with any element, or at unusual temperatures for the 
purpose of determining the extent and manner in which the range of 
variability may be altered by such special treatment, and this may be 
accentuated by the continuance of the test in successive progenies. 

Then again the pedigree-culture offers a fair opportunity for a 
demonstration of the influence of the effects of selection upon the range 
of variability and the mean value of any quality. Comparative cultures 
of seeds taken from the widest-leaved individuals with those of the 
narrower leaves will tend to show the result of such selection, especially 
if the selection is continued through several generations. In all these 
tests it is assumed that the seeds for the following generations should 
in all instances be guarded as directed above and sown in sterilized soil. 
With such close series of cultures the question of self- and close-fertil- 
ization might arise, and here again the culture affords invaluably exact 
material for a test of a subject upon which but little definite informa- 
tion exists. 

Fig. 2. Seed-pans and Plantlets of CraUegus, in Puke Cultures, Arnold Arboretum 



The possibilities of the pedigree-culture are by no means exhausted 
with covering the above points, especially if the plants chosen for the 
objects happen to be capable of vegetative reproduction, that is by cut- 
tings or slips, in which case comparisons should be made of progenies 
grown from seeds of the plant with wide leaves with individuals grown, 
from slips of the same, and also compared with others from the extreme 
end of the series. 

It is by undiscriminating discussions of horticultural operations 
involving seed-selection and hybridization, followed by vegetative propa- 
gation, that the public mind has become confused as to the nature and 

Fig. 3. Experimental Grounds showing Pedigreed Cultures of CEnnthera 
in New York Botanical Garden. 

possibilities of selection, notably by the ' popular ' and pseudoscientific 
descriptions of the thorough work of Mr. Burbank. By successive selec- 
tions certain features, such as size or quality, of a fruit are forced to a 
maximum development perhaps in a single plant, or may be in hun- 
dreds, after which the desirable quality is carried along, or propagated, 
in quantity by cuttings of the original plant, thus excluding a possibility 
of a return to the average habit of the species. 

Or, in hybrid combinations and resolutions, the desirable constitu- 
tion of some horticultural form may be secured only after the most 
highly complicated and repeated crossing, with a result too complex to 
be easily analyzed. With one desirable individual at hand which pro- 
duces nuts, berries, cherries, apples, potatoes or plums, or timber, it 
may be made to produce hundreds and thousands exactly like it merely 
by using its buds and branches for grafting and budding or propagating. 


2 1 9 

The use of seeds of the desirable form, either from the original or from 
any of its derivatives, might give play to all the complex activity of 
the splitting of hybrids and of the free play of fluctuating variability. 
During the course of study of the fluctuating variability of a species, 
by means of successive generations grown from purely fertilized seeds, 
the observer may be so fortunate as to encounter individuals which do 
not fit into his series by reason of the possession of some quality not 
visible in the greater number of the progeny, or by the lack of such 
qualities. Thus in a progeny of red-flowered plants one may he en- 
countered which has white bloom, or an individual with laciniate leaves 
may come in a pure progeny the remainder of which has entire leaves, 


'. , . ji?:.'- dA~ «!-£»-•. 

0fr 4&A 


Fin 4. Opunlia fulgida and O mammillata growing in Contiguity in the 
Vicinity of Desert Laboratory, Tucson, Arizona. 

or a wholly glabrous specimen may be in a hairy progeny, or an indi- 
vidual may depart from the progeny in all these particulars. In either 
case it is apparent that the variability here is not one of the modifica- 
tion of a character, but by the total accession or loss of a character, and 
the variability is therefore a discontinuous one. In the progenies in 
which such variants have been seen hitherto, they form a proportion 
never larger than six or eight per cent, of the whole number and gen- 
erally in much less quantity. If such mutants or saltatory variants be 
found, they should be closely followed, as they may furnish the observer 
with facts of the greatest value. Care should be taken to secure purely 
fertilized seeds and a minute anatomical examination should be made 
of the entire plant, with special respect to the characters in which it 
appears to differ from the mass of the fluctuating variants around the 




Fig. 5. Rosette of Raimannia odorata. 

The seeds secured from such mutants should be sown as directed 
above, and as many individuals as possible secured for comparison with 

the parental type, which should 
be continued as before. If now 
the individuals of the mutant 
progeny are placed in a series 
with respect to any given quality, 
statistical observations may show 
whether it is included within the 
range of fluctuating variability 
of the parental type. The ques- 
tion therefore as to whether a 
plant is a continuous or discon- 
tinuous variant is one of simple 
measurement and estimation of 
qualities, not a matter of opinion. 
With that simple question easily dis- 
posed of, the investigator may next turn his attention to the correlations, 
a phase of the question of vivid interest, since the sparse data at hand 
seem to point to a wider range of variation and less degree of correla- 
tion in such mutants than in the parental type. That is to say, instead 
of mutants being derived from forms showing widely fluctuating varia- 
bility, we have them appearing in the progenies of species in which the 
range of variation is small and the correlations close, while the deriva- 
tives themselves swing through a wide range of fluctuations. 

As a complementary means of 
investigation of the constancy and 
independence of the various char- 
acters dealt with in selection and 
mutation as observed above, hy- 
bridization forms an invaluable 
means of analysis, and is to be 
constantly resorted to in all stages 
of the various phases of the work, 
since in the observation of the be- 
havior of unit-characters in com- 
bination and after resolution the 
clearest appreciation of their char- 
acter may be reached. 

Still another phase of variability 
is that in which the greater portion 
of an individual will be found to comply with the requirements of a 
continuous series, but which bears a branch or portion of a branch which 
differs notably by the loss or acquisition of characters. Although all 

Fig. 6. Rosetta of Mitant of Raimaii- 
nia odorata induced by Chemical Tbeat- 
ment of Ovules. 


22 1 

discontinuous variations or mutations are essentially vegetative, vet 
these are generally termed so exclusively. It is to be noted that such 
sports, or mutants, when closely fertilized, come true to their aberrant 
characters. Among other numerous conclusions sustaining this point, 
one which has recently come to notice again is that of Kerner, 3 who 
said : 

The fact is that all plants may at some time sooner or later produce an 
aberrant branch, which differs from the parental type in many characters, and 
numerous phenomena force us to the conclusion that under the conjunction of 
favorable circumstances such aberrants would become the starting points of new 

In the context the author is careful to point out the limitations of 
such a method of origin of forms. 

Fig. 7. (Kaothera biennis, the Common Evening Primrose. 

Actual pedigrees from such sports or aberrant branches have been 
tested, in one instance by de Tries and in two others by myself, with the 
unanimous result that they were found to be constant to their aberrant 

Having carried on such pedigree-cultures with a large number of 
species for several years and having encountered some which did and 
others which did not give rise to aberrant individuals, attention was 
directed to the possibility of inducing changes in the hereditary ele- 
ments in such a manner that the qualities transmitted would be altered 
or destroyed. A theoretical consideration of the subject seemed to 
indicate that the changes constituting the essential operation of muta- 
tion ensued in a stage previous to the reduction divisions in the embryo- 
sac, or the pollen mother cells. It was planned therefore to subject 

3 ' Die Abhiingigkeit der Pflanzengestalt von Klima und Boden, 





these structures to the action of chemical agents, not ordinarily en- 
countered by the elements in question, at a time before fertilization 
occurred. The tests were planned to include the use of a solution of 
high osmotic value, and mineral compounds, some of which are toxic 
in concentrated solutions and stimulating in the proportions used. 
The probability of success would be heightened with the number of 
ovules contained in any ovary operated upon, and therefore the common 

evening-primrose, Oenothera biennis, 
Bairn an nia odorata a relative of it 
and a member of the same family, 
Begonia, Cleome, Abutilon, Splue- 
ralcea and Mentzelia and others 
were experimented upon. Without 
recourse to the detail of the work, 
it may be stated that the use of 
radium preparations, sugar solutions 
(10 per cent.), and solutions of 
calcium nitrate one part in one to 
two thousand of distilled water with 
capsules of Baiinannia odorata, and 
zinc sulphate in a stronger solution 
used with CEnotltera biennis, was 
followed by very striking results. 
In the first-named plant, there ap- 
peared in the progeny obtained from 
a few capsules of one individual, sev- 
eral individuals which were seen to 
differ notably from the type with the 
appearance of the cotyledons, and, 
as development proceeded, it was 
evident that a mutant had appeared 
following the injections and nowhere else, and thus to have some direct 
relation to the operation. The characters of the newly arisen form 
were so strikingly aberrant as to need no skill in their detection. The 
parent was villous-hairy, the mutant entirely and absolutely glabrous, 
the leaves of the parent have an excessive linear growth of the marginal 
portions of the leaf-blades and hence become fluted; the excess of 
growth in the mutant lies along the midrib and the margins become 
revolute. The leaves are widely different in width, tbose of the mutant 
being much narrower. The parental type is of a marked biennial habit 
and near the close of the season the internodes formed are extremely 
short, which has the result of forming a dense rosette; the mutant 
forms no rosette by reason of the fact that the stem does not cease, or 
diminish its rate of elongation, and hence presents an elongated leafy 
stem, which continues to enlarge as if perennial. The first generation 


•Am • V-** * 



■■■"* t *> w 

•'.;: if ' .. "ft 

m&r?~ ■ 


:. i. 

* ****** , ' { 

=--,;-■'•- • 

■HHK*-*'-''-' " 

ING Primrose, induced by Treatment 
of Ovules with Solutions of Zinc Sul- 


of the derivative came to bloom at the beginning of the present year, 
and bare mention of the existence of the derivative was given in a lecture 
before the Barnard Botanical Club at that time. The real value of the 
changes induced however lay in the transmissibility of the newly exhib- 
ited qualities. The flowers of the mutant were closely guarded and as 
soon as seeds were obtained these were planted to obtain a second gen- 
eration. A few plants were obtained, which in every particular con- 
formed to the new type and exhibited no return to the parental type. 

Injections of the ovaries of Oenothera biennis were followed by the 
production of one individual, which was recognizably different from 
the parental type in many qualities, some of which were plainly ap- 
parent even in the earliest leaves of the seedlings. These differences 
have become accentuated with the adult plant and are graphically illus- 
trated bv figures 7 and 8. The succeeding generations of this mutant 
are yet to be tested. The parental form has been under observation 
for five years in cultures and in a wild condition. An aberrant form, 
which appears to be ever-sporting, has been previously figured, and 
while this form appeared in the injected or treated seeds in a normal 
proportion, yet the newest aberrant has not been seen elsewhere. The 
probability must be taken into account that it may be a mutant of rare 
occurrence, the cycle of which came within the experiments, but in 
either case it is plainly a mutant, and it only remains to be seen whether 
or not it was induced by the action of the zinc solution. The presump- 
tion seems to favor such an affirmative conclusion. 

In finding our way about in the voluminous literature of evolution 
it must lie borne in mind that the subject embraces the origin and 
development of the universe, and that it has engaged the serious atten- 
tion of workers in all branches of knowledge. The multiplicity of 
viewpoints has resulted in the greatest diversity of conclusions as a 
necessary concomitant of widely differing methods of approach to the 
subject. Much that has been written concerning the subject is of a 
purely literary or polemical character, embodying prejudices, general 
opinions and beliefs, putting forward conclusions drawn at long range 
from attempted interpretations of the results of investigations not 
properly considered, and brought out for the sole purpose of swaying 
opinion or influencing sentiment. All work of this character as well 
as narrow and insecurely founded investigations are futile and inef- 
fectual except to befog the subject and hinder progress. 

The problems included in a study of organic evolution are essen- 
tially physiological, and the elucidation of the mechanism and action 
of heredity by which qualities, characters and capacities are transmitted 
from generation to generation may lie accomplished only by accurate 
observations and experimental tests witli active or living material. 
The examination of preserved material not in hereditary series, or the 
wide generalizations derived from geographic studies, may not con- 


tribute to the progress of exact knowledge of genetics, or methods and 
manner of inheritance. 

The combined and organized efforts of all the botanists in the 
world concentrated upon all the herbaria in existence would add but 
little to existing conclusions upon this subject, if we may judge by past 
achievements or immediate promise, while the most precise information 
upon geographical distribution can be of interest only in deciphering 
what has been accomplished, what forms exist and where, the factors 
influencing their movements, and where these have probably originated. 

To appreciate the mechanism of heredity an exact knowledge of the 
nature and behavior of the bodies which form its physical basis must 
be gained. To ascertain the action of heredity, statistical and accurate 
observations must be made upon long series of pedigreed progenies, and 
these must be carried out in such manner that environmental condi- 
tions may be either controlled or their influence measured. Pedigree- 
culture, first extensively applied by de Vries to clovers, teasels, poppies, 
snap-dragon and evening-primroses with such marked success, and notf 
used by many workers with animals as well as plants, has proved to be 
one of the most efficient forms of research yet used by the biologist, 
and its usefulness is hardly beginning to be realized. The various 
phases of selection, the accurate measurement of fluctuating variability, 
correlations, the amount and character of the influence of environ- 
mental factors, the effects of close and cross breeding, and the detection 
of saltatory variations may be accomplished under circumstances which 
allow a thorough and exact appraisement of the general physiological 
value of such jDhenomena by the use of cultures in continuous series. 

While the phases of evolution are generally estimated in terms of 
origin or formation of species, the basal problems of heredity are not 
especially concerned with the taxonomic estimation given by this author 
or that author as to the taxonomic standing of any form, nor does it 
matter whether it is a subspecies, elementary species or ' real ' species. 
The questions of evolution are to be answered by the acquisition of more 
accurate knowledge concerning the accession, modification or loss of 
functions, capacities and characters of physiologically unified groups 
of organisms, regardless of the necessarily more or less artificial ap- 
praisements of taxonomy. The briefest review of recent literature 
will reveal the widest diversity of opinion between botanists and zoolo- 
gists, and also unexplainable differences among botanists and zoologists 
as to the species-conception. The value of discussions into which such 
possible differences may enter is not enhanced by this fact. 

The carrying out of pedigree-cultures in New York has revealed 
the occurrence of discontinuous variants or mutants in Oenothera 
biennis, and 0. grandiflora among the species tested, in addition to 
furnishing ample exemplification of the derivatives of 0. Lamarckiana, 
;*s described by de Vries. Mutations in other genera await further 


test and observation, a matter which may occupy some time, before 
final announcement. 

Despite general assertions to the contrary, no evidence has yet been 
obtained to prove that the influence of tillage, ' cultivation,' or the mere 
pressure of environmental factors has produced any permanent changes 
in hereditary characters of unified strains of plants. 

The above is not meant as a sweeping assertion that inherited char- 
acters may not be affected by agents external to the protoplasts that 
bear them. On the contrary, the experiments now well advanced and 
conclusively verified, first announced in December, 1905 4 , and here 
described for the first time, show that saltatory inheritance has been 
induced by the action of external agents upon the ovules of two species 
of seed-plants. 5 The alterations in question consist in the total sup- 
pression of some qualities of the parental form and the substitution 
therefor of new characters or of a total gain of new qualities in some 
instances, and the differentiating points between the parental form and 
the derivative are both anatomical and physiological. 

The atypic form which has been tested to the second generation in 
one species is found to constitute a mutant in the sense in which that 
term is used by de Vries, and is a real and actual departure from the 
course of the hereditary strain. The capacity of the mutants induced 
in this manner for survival would depend entirely upon the environ- 
ment into which they might be thrown. 

If we seek a similar possible intervention of external forces which 
might act upon the plant unaided by man, we might find such influence 
coming from radio-active substances, such as spring- and rain-water, 
or from the effects of sulphurous and other gases which are being set 
free in numberless localities, or the protoplasts most nearly in contact 
with the egg-apparatus may well excrete substances which would pro- 
duce the same effect, without regard to the forces which originally 
caused the disturbances in the extra-ovular tissue. Lastly it is to be 
said that the actual technique of injection might be imitated in a 
measure by the action of foreign pollen which might find lodgment 
on the stigmatic surfaces, and sending down tubes through the style 
introduce unusual substances to the vicinity of the egg-cell without 
participating in normal fertilization, which would ensue in the cus- 
tomary manner. Lastly it is to be said that it would appear that a 
most prolific source of such disturbances might be expected to result 
from the stings and lacerations of insects, or the action of parasitic 
fungi, both sources of the most profound morphogenic alterations in 
somatic tissues, profusely exemplified by the well-known gall forma- 
tions of plants. 

4 MacDougal, ' Heredity and Origin of Species.' Reprinted in advance 
from the Monist for January, 1906. and distributed December 18, 1905. 

The possibility is not excluded that the reagents may have affected the 
elongating pollen-tubes. 




BUT a few years ago, the American naval officer serving his tour of 
duty upon the European station found in the antiquated vessels 
in which he was compelled to appear a constant source of mortification. 
This condition has now passed, and it is the geologist who in his turn 
is humiliated as the modern European earthquake station is opened 
for his inspection. A great earthquake upon American home territory 
has been registered by all first-class seismographs throughout the 
world, and the records have been collected for comparison and study 
at central stations. It is the kindest thing to say of the American 
records that they are a negligible quantity — for measured by modern 
standards they are — but unfortunately their inclusion in the autograph 
albums of the California earthquake of 1906 does not allow them to 
be overlooked. Thus the backwardness of our country in a most im- 
portant branch of the great science, in which we had perhaps thought 
ourselves entitled to some respect, is patent to all. 

It will hardly be claimed for us that the United States offers no 
opportunity for earthquake investigation. In 1811 a devastating 
quake affected a large area in the central Mississippi Valley, in 1872 
occurred the great Owens Valley earthquake in Nevada, and in 1887 
the Sonora earthquake of even greater violence; not to mention the 
Charleston and the recent California seistus. Lighter shocks have 
been frequent, and the greatest of earthquake authorities, the Count 
de Montessus de Ballore, showed some years ago that New England, 
the St. Lawrence Valley, the central Atlantic coast generally, the 
central Mississippi Valley, and above all the Pacific coast of the United 
States, must be regarded as notable earthquake provinces. 

The better to understand our true position, let us consider what 
has been accomplished in earthquake investigation within the last ten 
years. First, and most important, the laws of earthquake distribution 
have been determined, and the relation of earthquakes to topography 
and geology has given us a new branch of science — seismic geography. 
This is almost exclusively the work of one man, the Count de Montessus 
de Ballore, major of artillery in the French army, who has given the 
better part of his life to this arduous labor. 

From a wholly different direction the problems of earthquakes have 
been approached through the perfecting of seismometrographs, until 
they register all great seisms of our planet, however distant. This 


point reached, an entirely new field has been opened before our eyes. 
The new autographs of earthquakes have characters dependent upon the 
distances the waves have traveled to produce the record; so that the 
observer at a station can unaided give the distance of the disturbance 
within 50 miles, an error negligible in view of the extended area dis- 

By combining records made at several widely-separated stations, 
not only the distance from a given station, but a sufficiently exact 
location for each quake, is easily obtained. To have developed a great 
system of some forty such stations, scattered throughout the length 
and breadth of the globe, is the great service rendered to science by the 
British Association for the Advancement of Science, especially, and 
by the leader of its Seismological Committee, Professor John Milne. 
Thus it has been revealed that the great earthquakes of the planet are 
twentyfold more numerous than those reported by observation in situ, 
and that most of them occur upon the floor of the ocean, where other 
methods of observation would have failed to reveal their presence. 

The analysis of the complex of waves registered in the seismogram 
is extending our knowledge of the nature of the earth's interior, and 
affording the solution of problems which, in importance and in difficulty 
of approach from other directions, can only be compared with those 
now being solved by the study of radioactivity. 

No attempt to sum up the achievements of seismological research 
during the past ten years should fail to note the fact that the Japanese 
have for systematic and thorough study of the general problems, but 
even more for the practical applications of these investigations to the 
amelioration of the conditions in an earthquake-tormented country, 
taken the first place among the nations. Italy, also, with almost a 
score of stations of the first rank and with two hundred correspondents 
scattered throughout its small territory (to telegraph the first news of 
a quaking to the main office at Borne), has played no mean part in the 
advance of the science. 

The center of earthquake investigation upon the continent is now, 
however, the Imperial German Chief Station for Earthquake Investi- 
gation at Strasburg. Professor Gerland, its director, now issues the 
annual catalogue of earthquakes, and he has the credit of having organ- 
ized, in 1903, the International Seismological Association, and of hav- 
ing founded its journal, the Beitrdge zur Geophysik. The work of the 
station now devolves largely upon his highly-trained assistants, Pro- 
fessor Budolph and Dr. Sieberg. 

The writer assumes that a beneficent result may be expected to 
follow from the frightful calamity at San Francisco in the stimula- 
tion of seismological research in America; so that we may later take 
our proper share of both the labor and its rewards. The start can 


easily be made too hastily. There is much contention over the merits 
of the different types of seismometrograph, which differ as widely as 
possible. It is perhaps not strange, in view of the new vistas opened 
for discovery, that the analysis of the records from some instruments 
not provided with compensating devices has brought out waves sup- 
posed to originate in the earth, which exist only in the vibration 
periods of the instruments themselves. 

America's broad extent and her outlying territories and protec- 
torates (Alaska, Cuba, Porto Rico, Panama, the Philippines, Hawaii, 
Guam and Tutuila), offer her special advantages for a correlated 
system of earthquake stations; but she will do well to wait until her 
principal station has been well established, her type of seismograph 
determined, and a corps of trained expert observers found. This will 
require some time, and can be greatly hastened if pride be put aside 
and some one of the thoroughly trained men available in Europe be 
invited to superintend the erection of the first earthquake station. 

Some sacrifice the pioneer must always make, and so it happens 
that the English stations are fitted out with a type of instruments 
already obsolescent. On the point of establishing her outlying sta- 
tions (German East Africa, Shan Tung, Samoa), Germany will be 
more fortunate. The maker of scientific instruments for almost the 
entire world, she has steadily perfected her types before launching 
upon the larger undertaking. America will have at least the con- 
solation of profiting by the experience of the other nations during the 
past ten years, and there is need for much study of it. 

The recent investigation of earthquakes has thus developed along 
two somewhat different lines : ( 1 ) the macroscopic study upon the 
ground of felt quakes, undertaken by men trained as geologists; and 
(2) the microscopic investigation of the distant, large, locally 'unfelt' 
quakes, undertaken at special earthquake stations by men trained as 
physicists. There is much need that these different lines of endeavor 
should be brought into as close a union as possible, for only through 
mutual support can the best results be achieved. As Dr. Sieberg, the 
secretary of the Strasburg station, told the writer, the more difficult of 
the seismograms afford equivocal data if not checked by the reports 
' from the field.' 

The American Association for the Advancement of Science brings 
the geologist into association with his brother the physicist, as well as 
with many other scientists who take an interest in investigations of 
such general interest as those upon earthquakes. The writer takes this 
opportunity to urge that the association follow the glorious example of 
its British cousin and select from its membership a committee to watch 
over the interests of seismological research in America and to direct 
the course of legislation in accordance with its teachings. 




CAN not begin this address without delaying a moment to testify 
-*- to my sense of the great honor which has been conferred upon 
me by your invitation. Neither can I proceed with it until I have 
expressed to you my conviction that there are persons present in this 
audience whose scientific work on tuberculosis makes them far abler 
than I to discuss the complex problem of immunity in tuberculosis. 
My work in bacteriology in the past has not led me to an especial con- 
sideration of the highly important problem of the prevention and cure 
of tuberculosis, and I can therefore account in no other way for my 
selection to address you this evening than that you desired this topic 
presented to you from the point of view of one who has done some 
work in the general field of bacteriology. 

The modern study of tuberculosis, as you know, begins with the 
generation which immediately preceded the epoch-making discoveries 
of Koch. It may, I think, be said with justice that this study was 
inaugurated by the first purposeful transmission by inoculation of the 
disease from animal to animal. For whatever may have been the specu- 
lations upon the infectious and transmissible character of the disease 
before this demonstration, yet the demonstration was necessary before 
further steps in the elucidation of the cause and prevention of the 
disease could be taken. Koch in his masterful monograph gives the 
credit of successful inoculation to Klencke, who in the year 1843 suc- 
ceeded in inducing an extensive tuberculosis of the lungs and liver 
in rabbits by inoculation with portions of miliary and infiltrating 
tubercles from man. Klencke, after accomplishing this result, did not 
continue his investigations and they were consequently soon forgotten. 
In the meantime Villemin's experimental investigations were begun 
and pursued to a successful termination. He inoculated not only with 
tubercular material from human beings, but also from cases of bovine 
tuberculosis, and he seemed to have proved experimentally the identity 
of the latter disease with human tuberculosis. Villemin's researches, 
from the number of his experiments, the careful manner in which they 
were carried out and the employment of suitable control experiments, 

1 Address delivered at the joint meeting of the Association of American 
Physicians and the National Association for the Study and Prevention of 
Tuberculosis, held at Washington. D. C, May 16, 1906. 


appeared to decide the question in favor of the infective theory of 
tuberculosis. The numerous workers who repeated Villemin's experi- 
ments, after the same or modified methods, arrived at very contradic- 
tory results. The opponents of the infective theory strove to prove 
that true tuberculosis could be induced by inoculation with non- 
tubercular material. To the decision of this question Cohnheim and 
Salomonsen contributed largely by selecting for inoculation the anterior 
chamber of a rabbit's eye. The great advantage which this method 
possesses over all others arises from the fact that the course of a suc- 
cessful tubercular inoculation can be watched throughout by the experi- 
menter until the pathological process has advanced so far that the whole 
organism — the neighboring lymphatic glands, the lungs, spleen, liver 
and kidneys — becomes tuberculous. A further point in favor of this 
method of inoculation is that spontaneous tuberculosis of the eye has 
never been observed in rabbits. It was reserved for the genius of Robert 
Koch to discover nearly twenty years later, in 1882, by the employment 
first of an original staining method, the tubercle bacillus in sections of 
tuberculous organs, and next by the use of a special method of artificial 
cultivation, to secure growths of the bacillus free from all admixture 
with extraneous matter. With these pure cultivations he succeeded, as 
you well know, in reproducing in certain domestic animals all the 
characteristic appearances of tuberculosis in man. Furthermore, Koch's 
studies of this period convinced him of the unity of causation of the 
various tubercular affections met with in man and also of those met 
with in the common domestic animals. Refusing to be daunted by the 
fact that tuberculosis tends to appear under different aspects in each 
species, and directing his attention not upon the gross appearances of 
the disease, but focusing it upon the microscopical appearances of 
the primary tubercle, which as he said recurs with typical regularity 
in all the different processes in man, Koch recognized the essential 
identity of the apparently widely different forms of tuberculosis in the 
various species of animals. It does not detract from the immense value 
of his work that Koch failed to distinguish between the tubercle bacilli 
isolated from the tubercular tissue in fowls, cattle and man. This 
failure was by no means accidental, for the possibility of the existence 
of differences in nature of the cultures depending upon their origins 
was clearly in his mind. Many of you will recall the long list of cul- 
tures which is given in the paper on tuberculosis published in 1884. 
In regard to this list Koch says : " It may cause some surprise that so 
relatively large a number of cultures was set on foot when a few would 
have sufficed for observing the behavior of bacilli in cultures. It 
seemed to me, however, not improbable that though bacilli from varying 
forms of tuberculosis — perlsucht, lupus, phthisis, etc., presented no dif- 
ferences microscopically, yet, that in cultures differences might become 


apparent between bacilli from different sources. But although I 
devoted the greatest attention to this point, I could find nothing of the 
kind. In all the cultures, whether taken from miliary tubercles, lupus 
or perlsucht, the tubercle bacilli behaved exactly the same." 

Our knowledge of the nature of the tubercle bacillus has been 
increased until at this time several distinct kinds are recognized. These 
may conveniently be classified according to their chief sources into 
human, bovine and avian tubercle bacilli, and into so-called tubercle 
bacilli of cold-blooded animals. This last group of bacilli, which will 
detain us only a short time, differs greatly from the other varieties, as 
can readily be seen when the fact is recalled that the high temperatures 
— temperatures approaching blood heat — which are required for the 
growth of the mammalian and avian bacilli, quite preclude their multi- 
plication under conditions of ordinary external nature. Hence they 
are not adapted to a life outside the living body except as cultivated 
artificially at this relatively high temperature. In man's conflict with 
tuberculosis this fact is of the greatest service, since by reason of it he 
is enabled to disregard the danger of any increase in tubercle bacilli 
outside the animal body. The relatively low temperatures at which 
the tubercle bacilli of cold-blooded animals develop adapt them, indeed, 
to an independent existence; but, as they are wholly devoid of power 
to cause disease in warm-blooded animals and as they would appear 
to have a restricted dissemination even among cold-blooded species, 
they are of comparatively small importance. 

Of far greater consequence is the question whether the disparity 
which exists between the several kinds of tubercle bacilli derived from 
warm-blooded animals is a wide one. This question, which at first 
sight may appear to be chiefly of academic interest, has, in reality, 
far-reaching practical significance. The close relationship which man 
bears to domestic animals makes every fact of animal disease of high 
value to him. And in the case of no animal disease are facts of greater 
moment than in tuberculosis. Not only is the human race, by reason 
of its dependence upon the animal kingdom for food, work, etc., exposed 
to the diseases of animals which are transmissible to man, but domestic 
animals are also exposed to diseases of human beings. This correlative 
susceptibility may, therefore, cooperate to produce a vicious circle of 
events by which infection or the dangers of infection are kept alive 
and threatening. Hence it is that an effective solution of the problem 
of limitation of tuberculosis, whether by suppression outright or by 
suppression through the induction of immunity, must take into account 
the degree to which tuberculous animals of different species, through 
direct or more remote association, are a source of danger to one another. 

There is no longer any doubt that the avian tubercle bacillus de- 
parts considerably from the human and from the bovine types of bacilli. 


The early observations of the Italian investigators, Rivolta and Mafueci, 
have been confirmed and so extended as to give us a fairly comprehen- 
sive knowledge of the capacities for pathogenic action, upon different 
animal species, of the avian bacilli. At the same time painstaking 
studies of the degree to which birds are subject to inoculation with 
pure cultures of tubercle bacilli of human origin support the view of 
diversity in type of bacilli and susceptibility of species. And yet, while 
fowl react only with slight local lesions, as a rule, to inoculations of 
tubercle bacilli of human origin, certain mammals have proved them- 
selves fairly subject to experimental inoculation with avian bacilli. 
While the guinea-pig, otherwise so sensitive to inoculation tuberculosis 
with the mammalian bacilli, is relatively resistant to the avian variety, 
the rabbit, which exhibits a marked degree of refractoriness to the 
human bacilli, succumbs quite readily to the avian bacilli. It is, how- 
ever, worth noting that the reactions in the rabbit which avian tubercle 
bacilli call forth do not conform to those observed in tuberculosis in 
general; there is absence of typical tubercles and caseation, and the 
chief pathological alterations observed are found in connection with 
the enlarged spleen. 

The literature on tuberculosis contains a small number of references 
to the cultivation from human subjects of the avian tubercle bacillus. 
From our present knowledge it may be postulated that avian tubercle 
bacilli occur rarely in man. Eabinowitsch has, indeed, recently empha- 
sized the occasional occurrence of the avian bacilli in cattle, swine, 
horses and monkeys; but they constitute a small source of danger in 
the spread of tuberculous disease among mammals. The parrot, because 
of its use as a pet and of its susceptibility to the avian bacillus, on the 
one hand, and of the human bacillus, on the other, is a greater menace 
to public welfare. 

The subject of bovine tuberculosis and of bovine tubercle bacilli 
is among the most important of all the questions relating to the sup- 
pression of tuberculosis. The admirable studies of Theobald Smith 
established the distinction in type subsisting between certain bacilli 
of human and of bovine origin. We have come now to regard these 
types as separate and not to be transmuted, at least not readily under 
artificial conditions of cultivation, into each other. Into the disputed 
questions of variation due to environment I can not afford to enter. 
But I would have you believe that transformations of avian, bovine and 
human bacilli into each other have probably not been accomplished by 
experimentation. The cultivation of one variety of bacilli in the body 
of an alien species has been said to alter profoundly the properties of 
the bacilli; but the observations upon this point are in my opinion far 
from convincing. The mere fact that avian and bovine varieties of 
bacilli preserve their peculiar properties when occurring naturally in 


the diseased body of an alien species — man, for example — tends to dis- 
credit the experimental transmutations referred to. 

Bovine tubercle bacilli are characterized, as ascertained by Smith, 
by a greater degree of pathogenic power for mammals in general than 
human bacilli, with which fact is correlated certain peculiarities of 
cultural and physiological properties serving further to separate the 
bovine from the human bacilli. The bacilli of mammalian origin are, 
perhaps, closely related and less removed from each other by the sum 
of their properties than they are from the avian bacillus. With the 
few exceptions mentioned all forms of mammalian tuberculosis are 
caused by either the human or the bovine bacillus. 

In view of the general fact that the bovine bacilli show a greater 
degree of pathogenic action for the lower mammals than the human 
bacilli, it was natural to assume that bovine bacilli would be powerfully 
pathogenic for man also. To test this probability directly by experi- 
ment is, of course, not permissible. But the belief that tuberculosis 
in cattle is a menace to man is expressed in the many regulations by 
which it is aimed to control and prevent the use as food of products 
derived from tuberculous animals. It was not until Koch's address 
was delivered in 1901 that any serious doubt existed in the minds of 
sanitarians and pathologists that tuberculous cattle offered a source of 
danger to man. The specific knowledge which has accumulated since 
that date has served to establish the transmissibility in some degree 
of bovine tuberculosis to the human subject. The inherent difficulty 
and tediousness of the investigation of the specific types of tubercle 
bacilli existing in human cases of tuberculosis necessarily limit the total 
number of instances in which it has been established, beyond perad- 
venture, that the bovine type of bacillus does occur in tuberculous 
processes in man. In this country the responsibility of refuting the 
too general statement of Koch has fallen chiefly upon Bavenel and 
Theobald Smith, whose admirable studies in this direction are of a 
convincing nature. 

If we pause for a moment to consider upon what data Koch based 
his statement of the independence and non-communicability of tuber- 
culosis in cattle and man, we shall appreciate that, in so far as he dealt 
with established fact and not hypothesis, he had long been anticipated. 
That cattle are highly resistant to infection with tuberculous material 
and tubercle cultures obtained from human subjects can be concluded 
from the early experiments of Baumgarten, Sidney Martin, Frothing- 
ham and Dinwiddie. The most conclusive evidence upon this subject 
is contained in Theobald Smith's paper of 1898. in which he sum- 
marizes his experiments by stating that " putting all the facts obtained 
by experiments on cattle together, it would seem as though the sputum 
bacillus can not gain lodgment in cattle through the ordinary channels." 


In view of these facts, it is not surprising to find that Koch and Sehiitz 
later failed to produce marked or general tubercular infection of cattle 
by feeding or inoculating directly into the circulation tuberculous 
materials and cultures of tubercle bacilli of human origin. That this 
result does not dispose of the entire question at issue, but leaves open 
the important consideration of the implantation of the more virulent 
bovine bacilli upon man was, of course, present in Koch's mind, and 
was met by him by emphasizing the infrequency with which primary 
intestinal tuberculosis, which is the form of tuberculosis presumably 
arising from ingested virulent tubercle bacilli, is encountered in human 
beings. The reports which have appeared since have tended to show 
that primary tuberculosis of the abdominal viscera, especially in chil- 
dren, is not so infrequent as Koch believed it, and the researches in- 
spired by Koch's address have brought out the important fact, now 
based upon actual observation under the microscope, that tubercle 
bacilli may pass through the intact intestinal wall and reach, by means 
of the lymph current, the mesenteric glands; and have made it seem 
probable, also, that by entering or being carried into the blood vessels 
in the intestine the bacilli may be carried to the lungs. When all the 
known facts of food infection in tuberculosis are assembled, they make 
quite an imposing array, for they indicate, quite in opposition to the 
exclusive view expressed by Koch, that tubercle bacilli entering the 
body with food may be implanted upon the mucous membrane of the 
mouth, from which, probabl}'', chiefly in the region of the tonsils, they 
may be carried to the lymphatic glands of the neck and adjacent parts 
where they develop and produce tubercular disease; or they become 
implanted upon the intestinal mucosa and pass the epithelial barrier 
without first causing disease there, and set up lesions in the mesenteric 
lymph nodes or even be transported by the blood or lymph to the distant 
lungs; or they may first multiply in the intestine, cause tubercular 
disease there, and then migrate further, involving the abdominal and 
thoracic organs. 

If I have seemed to tarry too long over this aspect of my subject, I 
will ask you to consider for a moment in how far the endeavor to limit 
the spread of tuberculosis among the human race must be influenced 
by the avenues of infection to which the race is exposed. If we side 
with Koch in the view expressed in 1901, and reiterated just the other 
day in his Nobel-prize address, that, as he says, human tuberculosis 
and tuberculosis in cattle are so distinct from each other that the latter 
is not to be feared as transmissible to man, at least, as his last utter- 
ance puts it, not in a form which comes in consideration in regard to 
tuberculosis as a ' VollcskraiikheitS or race disease, then it is only 
necessary to direct efforts to the suppression of tubercle bacilli of 
human origin. For, if the danger of infection of surroundings and 


healthy individuals is limited to the expectoration of persons suffering 
from tuberculosis of the lungs and upper air passages, the problem 
before us, while still very large, is less by a considerable amount than 
if there must also be taken into account the widely prevalent disease 
among cattle, swine and other domestic animals. While I do not pre- 
tend to speak in terms of great authority, yet it would seem to me that 
the time is not yet ripe to disregard, in attempting to suppress tuber- 
culosis, the disease in domestic animals. Greatly as I sympathize with 
the active propaganda which is being made by instruction and material 
help to protect tuberculous human beings from injuring themselves 
and others, and greatly as I hope to see promoted the means of caring 
for the tuberculous in sanatoria, etc., yet I hope that there may occur, 
at this time, no relaxation in the efforts being made to control the 
spread of tuberculosis among cattle and to prevent the consumption 
of infected milk and flesh by man and other animals. That, on the 
other hand, the suppression completely of tuberculosis among cattle 
would not be followed by a great reduction in the morbidity due to 
tuberculosis in man is shown by Kitasato's statistics from Japan. In 
that country the human disease prevailed with its usual activity at a 
time when the cattle disease, owing to the absence of cattle, was un- 
known, and milk formed no appreciable element in the food of children. 

In dealing with the complex problem of tuberculosis — a problem 
whose difficulties enlarge with the continued growth in size of cities — 
we are materially assisted by the knowledge of the manner in which 
the virus of tubercle is separated from the diseased body, the conditions 
of its contamination of our environment, and the avenues through which 
it endeavors to enter the healthy body. Though it is, perhaps, scarcely 
to be hoped that a time will arrive when tuberculosis will have become, 
through precautions against infection, as rare as are to-day smallpox 
and typhus fever, yet it is a most hopeful result of the crusade against 
tuberculosis that a marked reduction in the mortality, and probably 
in the incidence of the disease, has been going on in some countries — 
as, for instance, in England — for forty years. In New York, the sys- 
tem organized by Biggs has brought about a reduction since 1886 of 35 
per cent, in the mortality of the disease ; and while in Prussia the mor- 
tality was stationary in the decade from 1876 to 1886, since that time 
a reduction of more than 30 per cent, has been noted. These figures 
show what may be accomplished in reducing the dangers of infection 
with tuberculosis by a regime of education, improved conditions of 
living for the poorer classes, and the segregation in hospitals and 
sanitoria of any considerable number of the infective tuberculous during 
the most dangerous period of the disease. 

The discovery of the microbic agent of tuberculosis naturally 
awakened the hope that a specific means of treating and, possibly, of 


preventing tuberculosis might now be found. The early years following 
the cultivation of the tubercle bacillus saw no realization of this hope, 
and to-day we are still far from the desired goal. However, the prodi- 
gious labor which has been expended in the search for a means of pro- 
tection against infection with the tubercle poison has not been wholly 
devoid of results. 

In an address of this kind it is not practicable to deal with the 
separate contributions, in detail, which the many workers have made 
to the subject of immunity in tuberculosis. The most that can be 
accomplished is to bring together the more important results of all 
the workers and, after having assembled them, to judge of their value 
and to consider, possibly, in what important respects they are still 
imperfect. I can not do better, at the beginning, than to remind you 
that the successful point of departure has been the discovery that varia- 
tions in type and in virulence exist among tubercle bacilli. The earlier 
view which taught that the tubercle bacillus is a micro-organism of 
uniform and fixed virulence has been shown to be erroneous, first by 
the discovery of variations according to certain origins, and second 
by a gradual decline in pathogenic power suffered by certain strains 
through long cultivation outside the animal body. 

The animals which have been of special use for tests of immunity 
are rabbits, cattle and goats. The guinea-pig, which furnishes an 
almost ideal animal for the detection of tuberculosis, because of the 
sensitiveness of its reaction to inoculations with tubercular material, 
fails, for the same reason, to be a highly suitable animal in which to 
carry out tests of immunity; and yet it has been employed with some 

The first important contribution to the subject of experimental 
immunity in tuberculosis was made by Koch in connection with his 
researches on tuberculin — a product of the growth in broth of tubercle 
bacilli, freed from the bacilli and concentrated. In spite of the failure 
of tuberculin to bring about a favorable issue in all cases of human 
tuberculosis in which it is administered, it still remains a useful, perhaps 
the most useful, strictly medicinal agent employed for the treatment 
of tuberculosis.- But the sum of its useful properties is not embraced 
in its employment as a therapeutic substance: it is also a diagnostic 
agent of high value, and its action upon the tuberculous organism is 
so specific and remarkable that it has proved itself of the greatest 
importance and aid in the effort to unravel the complicated series of 
biological phenomena which constitute the tubercular state. 

It is possible to increase somewhat the resistance of animals to 
tubercular infection by previous treatment of tuberculin; but this 
increase is not remarkable. It is possible to bring about arrest of the 
tubercular process in the infected organism by means of tuberculin: 


and in some instances this arrest leads, through the changes induced 
in the tuberculous tissue by means of the tuberculin injections, directly 
to cure, or indirectly, through an increased power of resistance and 
attack on the part of the forces of the organism, to eventual cure. But 
a high and lasting degree of immunity has never been secured by the 
use of tuberculin. This fact, disappointing as it was at first, is now 
easily explicable. Tuberculin does not represent the entire series of 
forces contained in the bacilli which the body has to resist in preserving 
itself from infection with tubercular poison. The peculiar principles 
contained in tuberculin are, indeed, not highly toxic for the normal 
individual ; and our experience in securing immunity to micro-parasites 
and their products has taught us that where no reaction or response to 
the introduction of the foreign poison is called forth, no degree of pro- 
tection to larger doses or more virulent poisons of the same nature 
is to be expected. Toxic as is tuberculin to the tuberculous organism, 
it is almost innocuous to the tubercle-free body. It has been found, in 
keeping with this distinction, that the normal animal shows after 
tuberculin treatment evidence of the minimal production of the neutral- 
izing or antibody for the tuberculin, which, were tuberculin a direct 
poison for the tissues, would probably be produced in larger amounts. 
On account of this absence of action on the normal organism it has 
been thought that the active principle in tuberculin does not exist in a 
free state, but occurs in some combination, from which the tuberculous, 
but not the non-tuberculous, organism can free it, and that the separa- 
tion takes place in the tubercular foci upon which the specific action 
of the poison is directly exerted. If this view is correct then the failure 
of tuberculin to exercise any profound action on the healthy organism 
is easily grasped. 

Increased knowledge of bacterial infection and immunity has taught 
us that in case of bacteria which invade the depth of the body and pro- 
duce their peculiar effects by reason of their immediate presence, we 
can not expect to achieve marked immunity through the use of the 
soluble gross-products of the parasites. The reaction of the body to the 
invasion depends not upon the presence in the invader of one set of 
toxic principles, but of many, some of which are contained in the solid 
substance of the micro-parasite and do not go over into the fluids in 
which they multiply. Thus it has been found, in case of certain bac- 
teria, that a degree of immunity or protection which it is impossible 
to obtain even after very prolonged treatment with the fluid portions 
of cultures, can be secured quickly when small quantities of the living 
or even dead microorganism are injected into the body. A high degree 
of bacterial immunity has been secured up to now for a small number 
of micro-organisms by vaccination — by the method introduced by 
Pasteur — for several animal diseases, notably anthrax or splenic fever, 


fowl-cholera and black-leg. In these cases the living attenuated micro- 
organisms are employed. 

Neither lasting nor marked immunity in tuberculosis can be ob- 
tained by the inoculation of cultures of tubercle bacilli killed by heat, 
sunlight or other agency. Dead tubercle bacilli are poisonous and 
bring out a striking reaction of the organism, but this reaction does not 
confer immunity to subsequent inoculations of the living germ. It may 
well be that the dead bacilli, especially if reduced to impalpable powder 
so as to facilitate absorption, may after injection raise the powers of 
resistance in the organic forces, although the height of the sustained 
forces is not sufficient to enable the body to throw off completely the 
living infecting organism. It is easy to prove that the animal organism 
is modified by the development within it of the tubercle bacilli; and 
merely disposing of dead bacilli increases its power of reaction against 
a second injection of dead tubercle bacilli; the second action being 
much more vigorous than the first. (Theobald Smith.) The experi- 
ments of Koch which immediately preceded the discovery of tuberculin 
clearly demonstrated that tuberculous guinea-pigs into which tubercle 
bacilli are reintroduced subcutaneously react in a very especial manner. 
An active inflammatory process develops about the site of second inocu- 
lation which eventually brings about the expulsion of bacilli with the 
exudations; a voluminous slough forms, which, when shed, carries 
with it a large number of bacilli ; and this shedding is followed neither 
by the formation of a permanent ulcer nor hypertrophy of the neigh- 
boring glands, a regular result of the primary inoculation. The tuber- 
cular organism reacts in the same manner to dead as to living bacilli ; 
the tuberculous animal has acquired immunity against reinfection or 
reintoxication by the tuberculous virus, which, however, in no way 
prevents the first inoculation from becoming generalized and setting 
up a tuberculosis of almost all the organs. 

If we attempt an interpretation of these phenomena we can con- 
clude that the organism, once it is poisoned with tubercle virus, becomes 
supersensitive to the tubercle poison. This supersensitiveness is dis- 
played in the manner of reaction upon re-inoculation of the tuberculous 
organism to tuberculin and to dead and living tubercle bacilli. But the 
organism poisoned with dead tubercle bacilli is not in reality tubercu- 
lous ; it is, however, sensitized. In keeping with this distinction, it can 
be said that while the tuberculous organism has acquired a degree of 
immunity to reinfection, the organism merely poisoned with tubercle 
bacilli has failed to develop this state of resistance. 

The experimental results, which I shall relate to you, upon which 
are based our belief in the artificial production of immunity to tubercu- 
losis, were all obtained by the use of living bacilli. It would, therefore, 
seem as if in the course of their residence and development within the 


body the immunizing organisms behave differently from those in arti- 
ficial cultivations. This difference in behavior could be accounted for 
on the supposition that under conditions of parasitic life, surrounded 
as the bacilli are with complex fluids and more complex cells, they 
form, in their growth, products which either are distinct from those 
which are formed by them in cultures, or these products, in statu nas- 
cendi, are acted upon and modified by the active and labile ferments 
in the fluid and protoplasm of cells, with which the growth-products 
must come into immediate contact. Professor Welch, to whom this 
variation in behavior of bacteria under parasitic and saprophytic states 
of existence was fully apparent, endeavored a few years ago in his 
Huxley lecture to explain the difference in activity of bacteria growing 
within and outside the body by supposing that in the body they are 
induced to secrete substances the stimulus to the production of which 
is absent in the culture tube. However this may be, it is evident that the 
only form of immunity in tuberculosis which deserves the name has 
been obtained by the employment for inoculation of living cultures 
of the tubercle bacillus. 

Although the earliest experiments which had for their object the 
production of immunity in small animals by means of previous inocula- 
tion of products of the growth and of attenuated cultures of the tubercle 
bacillus were published in 1890 (Martin and Grancher, Courmont and 
Dor), yet, I think, the first really promising, because successful, achieve- 
ments of this end were made by Trudeau in 1902 and 1903 and by 
de Schweinitz in 1904. 

Trudeau protected rabbits from virulent tubercle bacilli by first 
injecting them with a culture of bird tubercle bacilli, the subsequent 
injection of virulent mammalian bacilli being made into the anterior 
chamber of the eye. The rabbits to be protected were twice injected 
subcutaneously at intervals of 21 days with cultures of the avian bacilli. 
About one in four of the rabbits died within three months, profoundly 
emaciated, but without tubercular lesions. The remaining animals 
recovered and were apparently in good health, when, with an equal 
number of controls, they were inoculated in the eye with a culture of 
mammalian tubercle bacilli. The results are instructive: In the con- 
trols little or no irritation following the operation is observed and the 
eye remains quiescent or nearly so for about two weeks, when the 
changes described in the early parts of this address manifest them- 
selves. After a few weeks general inflammation of the structures of 
the eye develops, the inoculation wound becomes cheesy and the eye is 
more or less completely destroyed. The disease, however, remains 
usually localized in the eye for many months, and may remain there 
permanently, depending upon the virulence and number of bacilli 


In the vaccinated animals, on the contrary, the introduction of the 
mammalian bacilli at once gives rise to a marked degree of irritation. 
From the second to the fifth day the vessels of the conjunctiva become 
engorged, and evidences of marked inflammation appear in the anterior 
chamber and on the iris (reaction of immunity). However, at the end 
of the second to the third week, when the eyes of the controls begin to 
show progressive and steadily increasing evidence of inflammatory re- 
action, the irritation in those of the vaccinated animals begins slowly 
to subside and the eyes to mend. In from six to twelve weeks, in the 
successful cases, all irritation has disappeared and the eyes present 
only the evidences of traumatism and inflammation. This experiment 
leaves no doubt of the protective influence exerted by the first inocula- 
tions of the avian bacilli and clearly establishes that related cultures 
of tubercle bacilli of moderate virulence for an animal species, can 
afford protection to subsequent inoculation with special and more patho- 
genic strains of the bacillus. Notwithstanding the fact that, as Dr. 
Trudeau records, some of the protected animals slowly relapse and 
the disease resumes its progress, although by almost imperceptible 
stages, the experiment still shows that protection, not absolute immu- 
nity, from tuberculosis may be obtained in rabbits by a species of 

De Schweinitz in 1894 reported certain experiments which he made 
on guinea-pigs and cattle. He inoculated the former with a culture 
of tubercle bacilli of human origin cultivated for about twenty genera- 
tions in broth. This culture was of a low grade of virulence for these 
animals, but it served to protect them to such an extent that when 
they were afterwards inoculated with tuberculous material from a cow 
they remained healthy, while control pigs injected with the same 
material became tuberculous and succumbed in about seven weeks. De 
Schweinitz injected large quantities of human tubercle bacilli into 
cattle — beneath the skin, into the peritoneal cavity and into the circu- 
lation — without injury. 

I may, at this time, digress for a moment and leave the more 
strictly chronological method of presentation, to allude to the set of 
experiments on the protection of guinea-pigs from tuberculosis, which 
Trudeau reported to the National Tuberculosis Association at its last 
meeting. The special merit of this experiment is that it shows the ex- 
istence of a connection between virulence and infectivity in the germ 
and its capacity to confer immunity. Unless the bacillus has the power 
to gain some foothold in the body it affords no protection ; if on account 
of high pathogenic power or virulence, it easily gains a foothold, then 
it brings about infection. To choose a culture of tubercle bacilli of 
just the right grade of virulence is one of the conditions, apparently, 
of successful experiment, as it must also be, in view of this fact, one 


of the difficulties of the method. The same difficulty has been en- 
countered in the practical carrying out of this method of immunization 
in cattle. Several series of guinea-pigs were inoculated with tubercle 
bacilli as follows: (a) with dead bacilli, (b) with living bacilli from 
cold-blooded animals, (c) with a culture of human bacilli cultivated 
artificially for more than twenty years which produces on inoculation 
no appreciable local lesions and never tends to generalize, and (d) 
another human culture cultivated artificially for more than fourteen 
years, which still causes in all the pigs slightly enlarged inguinal 
glands near the site of inoculation, and occasionally brings about slight 
caseation of the nodes with a tendency to partial generalization of the 
virus. The dead bacilli and the bacilli from cold-blooded species gave 
no protection; the second human culture, by reason of its greater in- 
vasive properties, protects better than the first, which is almost devoid' 
of power to grow in the animal body. In no case, however, was the 
growth of the virulent bacilli wholly suppressed. 

In man the question of acquired immunity has been answered by 
many authorities, as far as the main considerations go, in the negative. 
A large number of well-observed facts demonstrates that a person who 
has suffered from localized tuberculosis of the lymph glands — scrofula 
so-called — or other form of local tuberculosis, can not count upon an 
immunity from pulmonary tuberculosis. And yet it can, I think, be 
shown by reference to statistics that in man there exists a refractory 
condition which becomes increased after infection, since the number of 
persons who have been the victims, at some period of their life, of a 
tuberculous infection, is very large in comparison with the number who 
die of this disease, or the even larger number who develop severe forms 
of it. Hirsch gives the mortality of tuberculosis as compared with 
deaths from all other causes as 3 :22, in other words, tuberculosis claims 
as victims of death 1 in every 7 persons. This proportion does not, 
however, express the morbidity from tuberculosis, which is. in reality, 
far greater than these figures indicate. It is difficult to secure by vital 
statistics reliable data of the incidence of tuberculosis ; but trustworthy 
observations made at autopsies upon human beings indicate that as 
many as 90 per cent, of persons, dying from all causes, have at some 
period of their life been the victims of a tubercular infection. In far the 
greater number of instances the disease remains fixed in the bronchial 
or other lymphatic glands or the apex of the lungs and exerts no in- 
jurious effect upon the organism as a whole. We may, therefore, fairly 
conclude that the human organism possesses a strong inherent tendency 
to overcome infection with the tubercle bacillus. So much can be safely 
predicated. But whether the suppression of a local infection, such as 
I have described, gives an increased capacity for overcoming subse- 
quently invading tubercle bacilli remains for the present an open 

VOL. LXIX. — 16. 


question. It is certainly not disproved by the facts cited; and some 
authorities hold fast by the belief that a degree of immunity to tuber- 
culosis may be acquired by man. 

In the year 1901, on December 12, on the occasion of his accept- 
ance of one of the Nobel prizes, Behring announced that he was 
engaged upon the study of artificial immunization of cattle to tuber- 
culosis. In this address the claim was made that a method had been 
perfected whereby it was possible to vaccinate cattle successfully against 
tuberculosis. These experiments consisted in the endeavor to immunize 
cattle by means of tuberculin, other toxins, so-called, from the tubercle 
bacillus, dead tubercle bacilli, bacilli weakened with chemicals and 
living, active cultures of the tubercle bacillus. In the four years 
which have elapsed since this announcement was made a series of 
monographic papers bearing on this subject has appeared from Bear- 
ing's laboratory in Marburg. The plan of immunization has, in this 
time, undergone a number of modifications until now it consists in the 
inoculation intravenously of young cattle — calves twelve weeks old 
preferably — with a standard human culture, which is now furnished 
commercially. A second inoculation of an increased quantity of this 
culture is injected three months later. Cattle treated in this way are 
regarded as highly immune and are denominated by Behring as 
' Jennerized.' If to them a dose of a virulent bovine culture of tubercle 
bacilli is given, no permanently bad results follow, although an equal 
dose of the virulent culture will cause, in an unvaccinated animal, the 
development of generalized tuberculosis leading, in a few weeks, to 

In his endeavor to find a culture of the tubercle bacillus which 
would fulfill the requirement of producing a transient illness and 
leave protection behind, Behring discovered that not all tubercle bacilli 
of human origin were without danger to cattle inoculated with them. 
We were, indeed, not unprepared for this announcement, since, in the 
first place, we had learned that in some instances tubercle bacilli of the 
bovine type have been cultivated from examples of human tuberculosis, 
and, on the other, that not all the bacilli, of any type, exhibit equal 
degrees of virulence. The culture employed by Behring, although it 
has now been employed to inoculate several thousand cattle, is said never 
to have produced severe disturbances of health; even when animals 
already tuberculous are inoculated the results are not serious: fever 
lasting several days sets in, the animals may cough, and they may eat 
less and lose somewhat in weight, but even they return to what is for 
them the normal. 

It would appear that McFadyean is entitled to the credit of the 
discovery equally with Behring of the immunization of cattle from 
tuberculosis; and, indeed, there is reason to believe that his results 


even anticipated those of Behring. By using for injection first tubercu- 
lin and then in succession tuberculin and tuberculous material con- 
taining bovine and possibly human tubercle bacilli, McFadyean suc- 
ceeded in increasing the resistance of several cattle to artificial tubercu- 
lar infection. 

Pearson and Gilliland, 1902, in this country early published ac- 
counts of some experiments which they carried out upon the immuniza- 
tion of cattle from tuberculosis. They employed a culture of human 
tubercle bacilli for producing immunity and found that subsequently 
the protected animals, as compared with the controls, which all suc- 
cumbed to the virulent inoculation, either developed no lesions or very 
inconsiderable ones upon being given large quantities of highly patho- 
genic bovine cultures. As far as I know these experimenters are the 
only investigators who have endeavored to carry the principles of the 
method a step farther, so as to bring about arrest of the disease in cattle 
already tuberculous. While it is unlikely that such a therapeutic use 
of ' Vaccination ' will ever be made in veterinary practise, the facts 
are of considerable theoretical interest, especially in view of the some- 
what similar means employed to arrest tuberculosis in man. 

The immense importance to scientific agriculture of the matter of 
immunization of cattle from tuberculosis and the even greater collateral 
interest which the subject has for man, as enlarging the possibilities 
of immunity even for him, have led to a discussion on the priority of the 
discovery between Neufeld, a pupil of Koch, and Behring. It would 
appear from ISTeufeld's writings that, while working under Koch's 
direction, he ascertained as early as 1900-1901 that large animals — 
donkeys chiefly, but cattle also — could be protected from artificial 
infection with virulent tubercle bacilli, always fatal to control animals, 
by previous treatment with tubercle vaccine, of which several different 
preparations were studied. It is not within the scope of this address 
to apportion the credit of priority; but in any case, assuming the facts 
to be as stated by the contestants, McFadyean should receive as great 
credit as either of the others, if not the chief credit. The principle 
which all the investigators employed is not new in experimental medi- 
cine, but has come to us from the genius of Pasteur. It may, however, 
be said that our knowledge of the tubercle bacillus and its varying 
activities had by the year 1900 become so much enlarged that the 
possibility of putting the facts of the newly discovered properties to a 
practical test of immunity occurred to the several independent workers 
in bacteriology. There can, I think, be no doubt that Behring deserves 
the credit of making the protection of cattle from tuberculosis a feas- 
ible, practical object of study. This alone is a merit of no small order. 

From the mere fact that cattle have been successfully protected 
from infection by the tubercle bacillus, even under the severest condi- 


tions of laboratory experiment, it can not be concluded that they will 
be equally refractory when exposed to the natural sources and modes 
of infection. In the laboratory the virulent infectious agent is brought 
into the animal by injection, under the skin, into the serous cavities 
or into the circulation, which are avenues through which in the natural 
disease infection rarely if ever takes place. And while this mode of 
introduction of the virulent bacilli into the body may, theoretically, be 
more severe than their introduction into the lungs with inhaled air, 
or into the stomach through infected stalls and food, yet the profound 
differences in the defenses of the body with which the bacilli come into 
conflict, under these different circumstances, may, after all, determine 
the issue in a manner quite contrary to our expectations. It is, there- 
fore, of the highest interest to learn that in their later tests Behring 
and his co-workers exposed vaccinated cattle to stalls and herds which 
were known to be badly infected, with the result that at the time of the 
report, they had apparently escaped infection. I am enabled through 
the courtesy of a private communication from Dr. Pearson to state 
that cattle vaccinated by himself and Gilliland which were kept for 
two years under natural conditions of infection have not contracted 
tuberculosis, while the control animals, exposed to the same conditions, 
have all developed the disease, some dying spontaneously by reason of 
the severity of the infection. Dr. Pearson also informs me that their 
experiments indicate that the degree of resistance bears a rather definite 
relation to the number of vaccinations given the cattle. No cattle 
vaccinated three times with their standard vaccine — a living culture 
of tubercle bacilli of human origin — have developed tuberculous lesions 
even after two years' severe exposure. In their experience, two injec- 
tions of Behring's vaccine do not always suffice for such heavy ex- 
posure as they employed. 

As regards the question of duration of the protection, it may be 
said that Behring, basing his views on results of vaccination made three 
years before, expressed the belief in 1901 that it would endure during 
the life of the animal. As young healthy cattle are vaccinated before 
they fall victims to infected stalls and herds, it would seem as if in- 
fected herds might therefore gradually be replaced by healthy ones. 
The gain, this being true, would be almost incalculable to agriculture. 

I am in the fortunate position of being able to bring before you a 
critical summary of the subjects just presented by one wholly con- 
versant with its practical as well as its theoretical aspects. Through 
the courtesy of Dr. Leonard Pearson I have been enabled to read the 
advance sheets of a review on immunization in tuberculosis which will 
soon be issued from the Phipp's Institute. Dr. Pearson concludes that 
there appears to be no doubt that different cultures of human bacilli 
have different immunizing values. Some can not be used at all because 


they are of too high and others, possibly, because they are of too low, 
virulence for cattle. There is also need for comparison in immunizing 
value of fresh cultures and cultures that have been dried in vacuum 
and reduced to powder. Some observations appear clearly and strongly 
to indicate that the fresh cultures are preferable. Although it has been 
shown that vaccination can be practised so as to be entirely harmless 
to the animals, yet, on the other hand, it is not always unattended with 
danger. What is the shortest and most economical procedure for the 
protection of cattle on a large scale is still to be established. Only 
prolonged observation of carefully recorded results of vaccinations 
practised on a large scale can settle this point. The question of dura- 
tion of immunity is still an open one. It has been shown that the 
immunity endures a year. To say, at the present stage of the studies, 
that it will last during the entire life of an animal is to make a state- 
ment for which there is no experimental proof. Modes of vaccination, 
as illustrated by the intervals between the successive injections, differ 
greatly. Behring recommends an interval of three months, while others 
have obtained a high degree of immunity by repeated injection at short 
intervals. As artificial immunity is relative and not absolute it need 
not excite surprise that the immunity to the tubercle bacilli can be 
overcome by the injection of large quantities of active bacilli. What 
is desired in practise is a degree of immunity that will suffice to protect 
animals from acquiring the disease under natural, and consequently 
highly variable, conditions. In some herds, where the natural disease 
prevails in a mild form, a lower degree of immunity may suffice than 
in other herds in which the disease is more severe and wide-spread. We 
are, therefore, at the beginning of this complex and highly important 
subject. These are Dr. Pearson's conclusions. 

There is another aspect of this subject which demands attention. 
When it is recalled that immunity in cattle is obtained by the injection 
of living human tubercle bacilli the question arises whether this pro- 
cedure is wholly free from danger to the consumers later of the flesh 
and milk of these cattle. It would appear that the human bacilli do 
not excite in cattle the tubercular lesions, in which doubtless the bacilli 
are so enclosed as to be, to a considerable degree, protected from 
perishing. It is equally true that as the living micro-organism can not 
be replaced by dead ones in bringing about immunity, the immunizing 
process is in some way bound up with their survival and even, pos- 
sibly, with a restricted multiplication. Hence it is necessary that we 
ascertain, first, how long the human bacilli survive in the organs of 
the vaccinated animals, and second, whether they are ever eliminated 
with the milk of cows. The observations already made upon these 
points are so few as at present not to be useful for any scientific deduc- 
tions. But before the method is too implicitly relied upon these ques- 
tions should be answered. 


It is an interesting subject of speculation as to what the result will 
be when cattle in general, and possibly, man later, shall have been 
immunized to tuberculosis. Will the race of tubercle bacilli disappear 
in large measure from the world? This would indeed be a beneficent 
result. But Dr. Smith has pointed out in a recently delivered address 
that doubtless host and parasite eventually come to hold a kind of 
equilibrium to each other, and hence an increased degree of resistance 
in the former might tend to bring about that selection among the para- 
sites through which races of greatly augmented power for invasion 
would be produced. If this were true, and he even suggests that the 
natural process of weeding out the weaker among the human race tends 
to this result, the parasite would try to keep up with the host as his 
resistance increased until a point was reached beyond which further 
enhancement of power was impossible. Would the higher animal or 
the lower vegetable organism finally claim the victory? We need per- 
haps at this moment not to relax our efforts to achieve a practical 
immunity for man as well as for animals because of this future dan- 
ger. I am not aware that the smallpox germ has increased measurably 
in virulence since vaccination became general, but I would also add 
that a century is a small period of time in the life history of any 
living organism. 

Before closing this address I should like to refer briefly to the new 
interest which has been excited in the use of tuberculin in the treat- 
ment of human tuberculosis by reason of the application to the study 
of tuberculosis of a method introduced by E. A. Wright, of London, 
whereby it is held that the exact effect of the tuberculin injection can 
be measured and controlled. The method consists in the determination 
of the capacity of the blood leucocytes to take up tubercle bacilli when 
the blood and the bacilli are brought together outside the body in a test 
tube. Wright and his pupils have worked out the normal power of 
the blood to cause the englobing of the bacilli; and they have noted a 
diminution of this capacity in the blood of many persons suffering 
from tuberculosis. They speak of this englobing capacity of the blood 
as ' opsonic index,' from the word meaning to prepare — to cater for ; 
since the bacilli must first be prepared by substances in the blood serum 
before they can be ingested by leucocytes. The injection of tuberculin, 
when cautiously done, tends to bring about a rise in the tuberculous, 
of the ' opsonic index/ which Wright believes is a measure of the good 
done, as an increase in immunizing substances in the blood is the cause 
of the rise. He also discovered that time is required for the occurrence 
of the rise and that the immediate result of the injection is a fall of 
the index — so-called negative phase. This latter must be permitted to 
pass away and be succeeded by the positive phase before another injec- 
tion is given. Gradually the ' opsonic index ' is driven up in the cases 
that are favorable to the treatment. 


I do not intend to discuss the value to the clinician of this interest- 
ing method and Wright's observations based upon it. The subject ap- 
pears to me to be one of great intricacy and therefore to be approached 
in a spirit of proper criticism despite its evident allurements. My pur- 
pose in mentioning it at all is to bring again to your attention a method 
of exciting the tuberculous body to put forth an effort at self immuniza- 
tion which is sometimes efficient to a marked degree. It is not the 
injected tuberculin that accomplishes directly the changes in the condi- 
tion of the patient, for there already exists, doubtless, an excess of 
similar poisons in the tuberculous foci in the body. The healthy body, 
indeed, does not react in this manner and is not to be protected, endur- 
ingly, from tuberculous infection by a previous treatment with tuber- 
culin. As Koch's phenomenon shows the tuberculous organism to have 
developed defenses against subsequent tuberculous infection which the 
normal body does not possess in equal degree, the employment of tuber- 
culin indicates that the diseased body can be aroused artificially to put 
forth a stronger effort than its unaided natural forces enable it to make, 
in order that the disease may be overcome. Herein resides a great 
principle, an immense power for good, and, consequently, a great hope 
for future progress in the rational and specific treatment of tubercu- 
losis in man. Efficient efforts at suppression of the causes of tubercu- 
losis, deeper knowledge of the principles of bacterial immunity, are 
the two forces which in time may stay the ravages of the 'White 






^r^HE hydrographic or drainage basin of the Mississippi River 
-*- (Fig. 1) is equivalent in area to one third of the United States. 
Thirty-two states and territories contribute water to the volume of the 
river; eight of these divisions send water to no other system. The dis- 
charge of rivers is not in any proportionate way related to the size of 
their drainage basins. The potent factors which determine the volume 
of discharge are the precipitation of rain over the basin and the char- 
acter of the soil. The upper Ganges has a basin less than one seventh 
that of the Mississippi. It equals the latter river, however, in the 
volume of its discharge. The Hoang Ho, with a basin area fifty per 
cent, only of that of the Mississippi, discharges more than twice as 
much water into the sea. If the discharge of the Mississippi propor- 
tionally to the size of its basin equaled that of the Po, the volume of 
the discharge of the former would be multiplied by six. The Danube 
more nearly equals the Mississippi in the ratio of discharge to size of 

Fm. L. Hydrographic Basin of the Mississippi, with Rainfall Types. Missouri type 
has the maximum rainfall in April, May and June ; Tennessee, in February and March ; Lake, 
a late spring maximum in June, and an early fall maximum in September. 

1 Compiled, largely, from the reports of the Mississippi River Commission. 



basin. It, too, lias a portion of 
its drainage area protected from 
the prevailing winds and approxi- 
mates to the rainfall condition of 
the Mississippi. The Ganges and 
the Hoang Ho are in regions of 
copious seasonal rainfalls. 

The portion of the Mississippi 
Basin subject to inundation in- 
cludes land on both sides of the 
river south of Cape Girardeau, 
Mo., and aggregates 29,700 square 
miles, or an area equivalent to the 
state of South Carolina. Through 
this alluvial basin (Fig. 2) the 
river winds in a rather tortuous 
path, the distance by river (1,700 
miles) being nearly three times 
as long as a straight line drawn 
from Cape Girardeau to the Gulf 
of Mexico (GOO miles). 

It is characteristic of many 
flood plains that the land imme- 
diately adjacent to the river is 
higher than the more distant 
parts of the plain (Fig. 3). 
These higher parts are called nat- 
ural levees by some writers. If, 
therefore, the river rises beyond 
the limit of its banks, there is 
likely to be a general inundation 
of the alluvial basin. This fea- 
ture of flood-plain form is further 
illustrated by the tributaries of 
the lower river. From an ordi 
nary valley slope a river flows 

fairly direct into the trunk stream. If a tributary crosses a flood plain 
of some size, the stream must force an entrance against the rise of the 
back slope of this plain and finally must breach the banks of the river. 

Fig. 2 The Lower Mississippi, with Tp.ib- 
utaries, alluvial basin, and hlghep. lands 
(dotted). CG, Cape Girardeau; C, Cairo: C", 
Columbus; M, Memphis; H, Helena; A, Arkan- 
sas City: G, Greenville; V, Vicksburg; N, Nat- 
chez ; BR, Baton Rouge; ISO, New Orleans. 

flood plain deposit- - 1 

-OL3 V ft L 1_ £ V S OS b 



Fig. 3. Cross Section of a River Valley. 



Fig. 4. Hydrograph of the Mississippi River from June, 1902, to May, 1005. 

It is apparently easier for the tributaries of the lower Mississippi not 
to overcome this rise, but to flow down stream in the back swamp lands 
or bottoms until some more formidable barrier forces them to empty 
their waters into the main channel. In this manner the St. Francis 
(Fig. 2) flows for 100 miles and is forced into the Mississippi just 
above Helena, where the main river, after crossing the alluvial basin, 
touches the higher land on the west. The Yazoo Eiver is forced in at 
Vicksburg, after flowing along the flood plain for 200 miles. Other 
tributaries show this same characteristic. The Atchafalava pursues 
its course to the Gulf as an independent stream. The height of the 
river bank over the back swamp districts varies from 10 to 25 feet. 

The large area of the drainage basin of the Mississippi would yield 
an unmanageable amount of water to the lower river during the stage 
of flood if the excess of discharge at that time resulted from a uniform 
rainfall condition. The very size of the basin with the tributaries of 
the main stream reaching far into rainfall areas of different types and 
seasons is beneficial to the control of floods. Reference to the map 
(Fig. 1) and the appended explanation may aid one in understanding 
the condition of rainfall over the basin. In addition, it is well to 
bear in mind that the condition of the ground affecting the amount 
of run-off of water is an important factor in the amount of discharge. 
The Ohio basin has its heaviest rains in January, February and March. 
Its largest tributaries, the Cumberland and the Tennessee, rise in 
regions of copious winter rainfall and add enormous volumes of water 
to the Ohio. The basin of the Ohio is less than one half that of the 
Missouri, yet it furnishes over twice as much water to the Mississippi. 
The melting of the snow and the frozen condition of the ground which 
increases the percentage of run-off at the time of the early spring rains 
swell the volume of the Ohio, while the late spring rains over the 
Missouri basin fall on an absorptive soil. Only 15 per cent, of the 
rainfall is drained from the latter basin and 24 per cent, from the 
former. The percentage over the Ohio during the flood months be- 
cause of the conditions stated above is probably much higher. 


25 1 



The sequence of floods from the tributaries is first, the Ohio, then 
the upper Mississippi, followed by the Missouri and the western streams. 
Great floods are not annual occurrences. Eecently the years marked 
by excessive floods have been the years of 1893, 1897 and 1903. The 
floods of the years 1898 and 1901 did not fall much short of the 
records of the seasons previous. 

The hydrographs of floods (Fig. 4) and the profiles of rivers at 
different seasons (Fig. 5) show 
that the floods proceed down 
stream somewhat as a wave. The 
highest point or crest marks the 
extreme danger limit due to 
height of flood. The hydrograph 
also indicates that the crest flat- 
tens somewhat in its down-river 
progress. The reason for this 
may be seen in the river profiles 
which are drawn from three 
stages of the river's annual fluc- 
tuations. The down-stream slope 
(AC) of the flood wave has in- 
creased over the normal slope of 
the river (GE). This results in 
an increase of speed of the waters 
on this slope. On the other hand, 
the up-stream slope (BA) is a 
less one than the normal slooe 
(EG), and a decrease of speed 
over normal flow results. At cer- 
tain times the slope (BA) may be 
against gravity, and a further 
retardation will be experienced. 
This would occur when a tribu- 
tary added a large volume of 
water to the Mississippi, as in the 
case of the Ohio during the 
spring freshets. The tendency 
of this increase of speed on the 
down-river side of a flood wave 
and the decrease of velocity on 
the up-river side is to reduce the 
size of the flood wave by draining 
off the excess of water faster than 
it can accumulate. If the river 
is long enough to allow this proc- 



Fig. 5. Profiles of the Mississippi River 
at Flood Stage (BC), at low water stage (DE), 
and at an intermediate stage. 



ess to so act, a flood would finally reduce itself to an insignificant 
rise of water. 

The following table may yield additional information concerning 
flood conditions : 



New Madrid 



Arkansas City 




Red River Landing 

Baton Rouge 


£ * 6 








5 « a 



328 ft. 

278 ft. 

50 ft. 

50.17 ft. 




















































Above Danger 
Line 1903. 

At or 

50.60 ft. 











24 days 







5 Feet 

8 days 



Levees were constructed by the early settlers of Louisiana about the 
year 1717 near Xew Orleans. In 1844 the right bank of the river 
in this state was embanked and many other isolated levees were in 
existence, especially along the Yazoo basin front. The average height 
of the Louisiana levees was four feet. Through the years up to 1883, 
there seems to have been a constant agitation of the question of levee 
building. .Riparian states, districts and owners formed committees 
and boards, taxed the protected lands or the products of these lands 
and in general managed to put their constituents under a heavy burden 
of debt. In 1858 a tax of 10 cents per acre was demanded on all lands 
which were freed from inundation, and such lands as bordered the river 
were often subjected to a tax of 25 cents per acre. In 1865 a board 
was constituted with a revenue derived from a tax on cotton of 1 cent 
per pound. In the year 1882, a flood greater than any previously ex- 
perienced overflowed the entire basin and destroyed most of the levees 
then existing. The Mississippi River Commission, created a few years 
before, now entered upon its work at an opportune time. With the 
landowners disheartened, their labors resulting in little gain, their 
money invested in levees swept away, the allotments of the commission 
were enough to revive the courage of the riparian proprietors. There 
has been a steady gain in the protection of the alluvial basin since the 
creation of this commission. At present the levee system comprises 
about 1,500 miles of structure and is 71 per cent, completed. 

The height of the levees is a varying one. If the levee is built on 
the immediate banks of the stream (Fig. 3), which is the highest part 

2 High water, 1903, and low water, 1895, are reckoned from the Memphis 
datum. The numbers are, roughly, seven feet too high for Gulf levels as the 


of the flood plain, a levee less high might suffice as well as one built on 
the back-slope. Where the original four-foot levee stood in Louisiana 
is a levee about 16 feet high. The top is not much higher than the top 
of the original levee, but, being situated at some distance from the 
banks, its base is 10 feet lower. The immediate banks of the river are 
so subject to caving that they do not make, in all cases, a safe founda- 
tion for a levee. It has been considered safer and wiser in many in- 
stances to build a more stable foundation. Furthermore, if the levees 
are built upon the higher and immediate parts of the flood plain, the 
levees would be nearer each other. The nearer they approach one 
another, the higher they must be. Any detraction from the horizontal 
expansion of the waters must be evidenced in a vertical expansion. 
With the levees placed further apart, a less height is possible. The 
thing that determines the height to which they shall be built is the flood. 
There is an endeavor to place the grade of the levees at from 2 to 4 
feet above the gauge measurements of the highest floods. Thus for a 
while the provisional grade was 2 to 3 feet above the 1897 flood. 
Later the 1903 flood set a new mark and a grade 2 to 2.5 feet above the 
1903 high-water line is suggested. At Lake Providence, the 1903 
water mark was 2 feet above the 1897; at Greenville, it was 2.4 feet 
above. Accordingly, the high water of 1903 reached approximately 
to the tops of the levees suggested after the 1897 flood, and a new 
height, 2 to 3 feet above the former, is now demanded. This latter 
height is about 5 feet above the provisional grade of five years ago. 
As the levees approach completion, higher and higher grades must 
inevitably result. As long as there is relief of the waters by incom- 
pleted levees and crevasses, the necessary height can not be determined. 
When the remaining 29 per cent, of levee is constructed and the system 
withstands one of the greater floods without a crevasse, the excessive 
flood will determine the height of the levees. Even then certain fac- 
tors of flood conditions may so unite as to cause a flood which will 
overtop the system. The statement of the character and condition 
of the system under the strain of the 1903 flood indicates that there 
is much left to be done. In the upper part of the basin, the levees were 
reported too low and of insufficient dimensions. The high water 
reached to the top for one half of the entire length of the lower St. 
Francis district and for many miles was above the tops, being restrained 
from spreading over the basin by capping the levees with planks, dirt 
and sand-bags. In the district below, it is reported that because of the 
settlement of the embankment and because about 20 miles of the line 
in the lower end of the district had not been raised to the provisional 
grade, considerable work was required to prevent the water from over- 
flowing the levees. Again in Louisiana, the topping of the levees by 
planks and sand-filled bags was necessary over a distance of 71 miles 
of the line in order to prevent a wash-over. An engineer reports that 


the most vulnerable feature is the instability of the foundation along 
much of the levee line. 

The efficiency of the levee system is the test of all the labor and the 
justification of the large expenditures. The increasing efficiency may 
be measured in many ways. A comparison of the number of crevasses 
and the total number of miles of destroyed levees with the records of 
previous floods is the one in general use. In 1882, 284 crevasses were 
recorded and 59 miles of levee were destroyed. This record has been 
gradually improved. In 1890, but 23 crevasses were reported and 4.25 
miles of levee destroyed. In 1897, the number of crevasses increased 
to 49, with a loss of 8.3 miles of levee. In the 1903 flood, 9 crevasses 
of importance were recorded and 5 of these caused a loss of 2.1 miles 
of the levees. The loss of levees by caving banks was a little less than 
1 per cent, of the entire contents. Last year (1904) in a period of 
quieter flood the percentage was over 2.5. The number of square 
miles of overflowed area in 1903 was .5 the mileage for 1897. There 
is no doubt but that the levee system as it approaches completion is 
being made stronger and safer. Yet each crevasse or natural break 
spreading the confined waters over larger areas releases the tension 
on the banks and to some extent prevents others from occurring. To 
enclose the water which has spread naturally over 29,700 square miles 
between two walls less than 5 miles apart and covering about one tenth 
of its former area is no easy task. Till the present system is com- 
pleted, the possibility of a flood will be uncertain that always grave 
dangers may be incurred to life and property within the limits of the 
alluvial basin of the river. 

The commissioners in their general report furnish the best proof 
of the increased confidence in the levees by citing the progress and 
growth of the Yazoo Basin since their board was created. The popu- 
lation of this district was 94,672 in 1880, and 195,346 in 1900. The 
present valuation of the basin is $42,000,000. The number of banks 
have increased from 2 in 1893 to 51 ; the mileage of railroads from 225 
in 1884 to 816. The cotton production in 1879 was 185,868 bales; 
in 1903, 426,414. The increase in corn, peas, clover and alfalfa is 
reported to be even greater than that of cotton. The original timber 
of the basin is being cleared, and there are now large shipments of 
lumber, as logs, boards, staves, headings and the like. Flourishing 
crops are seen to-day where in former years the floods measured from 
20 to 25 feet in depth. ' The Yazoo Basin is sprinkled with towns 
whose sites were the home of the bear and the wild cat ten years ago.' 

The engineers of this district in their reports of the flood of 1903 
state that about one fourth of the Yazoo Basin was under water during 
this flood. Two crevasses occurred, letting water into the basin. One 
of these, three miles below Greenville, Mississippi, was at its greatest 
width a breach of 3,900 feet. The water flowed back upon Green- 


ville and more than one half of that city was under water. Forces 
were set to work building a protection levee in the city and moving 
goods to a place of safety. As far as can be ascertained no lives were 
lost. Little or no loss in crops was sustained, as the flood came before 
the planting and the area was largely drained before that season arrived. 
The losses were mainly in live stock, fences and buildings. In contrast 
with the security so easily shown, in the reports of the commission, to 
be the experience of the inhabitants of the Yazoo Basin, the engineers 
in charge of the levees seem to congratulate themselves that no other 
crevasses occurred, for many weak places developed that required the 
utmost care and attention to hold intact. They state as their ex- 
pectation that crevasses are liable to occur at any high-water season 
and at any point in the system or ' until all levees are brought up 
to a sufficient section to withstand the long-continued strain due to the 
water remaining for weeks near the top.' Although the statement 
quoted, on the face of it, rather begs the question, we are at liberty 
to infer therefrom that too much confidence had better not be held 
in the protective value of much of the present line. So near to dis- 
aster do the floods approach oftentimes, that every element which the 
engineers can control is considered a necessary ally in cooperation for 
the protection of the levees. During the 1903 flood, the river boats 
were required to run at a reduced speed along a portion of this basin 
front. So full was the river and the waters stood so near the top of 
the levee that it was not considered wise to subject the embankment 
to the wash of passing steamers. It may be stated in this connection 
that a storm, arising as the water is nearing the crest of the levees, 
can not be so summarily dealt with; and it often causes a day or two 
of apprehension, if indeed the beating waves do not tear their way 
through the structure. 

A harsher note is sounded by an observer of the Weather Bureau 3 
than is struck in the reports of the commission. There were favorable 
and mitigating circumstances which decreased the volume of the 1903 
flood. Two factors materially modified the destructive feature of the 
flood; one of these was an early occurrence and the other a shorter 
duration. Both these factors spring from the same cause. Not- 
withstanding these compensating qualities this writer reports that the 
water during a period of two weeks was higher at Greenville and Ar- 
kansas City than it had ever before been known to be. The destructive 
work of the flood is summed up as follows : Some loss of stock in the 
basin; 115 houses evacuated in Greenville; 200 acres of fine farming 
land badly washed and left covered with sand; suspension of traffic 
on the Yazoo and Mississippi Valley Bailroad from March 27 to April 
17, and on the Biverside Division from March 27 to May 7; 1,460 

3 Bull. M, ' The Floods of the Spring of 1903 in the Mississippi Watershed,' 
H. C. Frankenficld. 


square miles of land overflowed in this basin, one half of which was 
farm land; 60,000 people lived in the overflowed district and were, 
therefore, inconvenienced; this number of people represents about one 
third of the inhabitants of the basin. For some time previous to the 
coming of the flood, the dwellers in the basin were preparing for the 
flood season. Mounds were built for temporary refuge. Stationary 
platforms were constructed to the same end. Rafts were also made. 
The mules, horses and the feed were in many instances transferred to 
places of safety, often to the lofts of the barns. Farm implements and 
machinery were put beyond the reach of the water. That the warning 
of the Weather Bureau was so extensively heeded explains why there 
was no loss of life and little loss of stock. 

These three reports of the same thing are not so contradictory as 
they sound. Each observer is looking for the things that sustain 
him and his point of view, and is not directly interested in the things 
that are foreign. One writer tries to establish the security of the basin 
of the Yazoo against danger to life and property, because that is what 
the board was created to do; a second writer tries to show how weak 
the levee is, in order to press home the need of funds — and he makes 
imminent danger to the basin area a means ; the third shows that with- 
out the services of the branch he represents, the loss of property and 
life would be multiplied. The first man is right to some extent, and he 
is sustained by the second, who sees how near to each other danger and 
safety sometimes approach — and they are aided by the third. I doubt 
not but that the Weather Bureau may make as just a claim for the 
credit of the progress in the Yazoo Basin as the River Commission. 

If the increasingly better reports influence a larger population and 
larger expenditures in holdings within the alluvial basin of the Missis- 
sippi, and the hopes of the engineers become realized to the extent of 
normal safety, then, perhaps, the levee system can be called efficient. 
Twenty years may be too short a time to consider the effect of the 
system upon population, and at the same time we must remember that 
but two thirds of the levee lines are completed, yet in this time the 
commissioners report an increase of population over the Yazoo Basin 
of over 100 per cent. It seems as if the people were becoming confi- 
dent that there is ' security and permanence of protection ' in the work 
that is in progress. Yet just so far as this confidence is expressed in 
settlement within the area liable to overflow, so much further must the 
levees protect beyond peradventure of disaster. In an increase of 100 
per cent, in population and a decrease of 50 per cent, in mileage of 
overflow, if the terms are commensurate, there is no gain ; if the terms 
are incommensurate, there is as good a chance for a loss as a gain. 
Just meeting the limit of strain, or preventing a break only by excessive 
vigilance and energy, or saving from disaster by some mitigating cir- 
cumstance is not the end to be aimed at ; but to be as reasonably sure as 
it is given man to be that an overflow can not occur must be the plan. 




I N the search for the causes of various social phenomena characteristic 
-*- of the Jews, most writers have been content to give ' race influ- 
ence ' a prominent place. The effects of the physical and social environ- 
ment on the individual, or group of individuals, have been neglected. 
Once that remarkable cloak for our ignorance, ' race,' had served the 
purpose of explaining easily the causation of a given social fact, it was 
an easy matter to rest content with this explanation. It was repeatedly 
alleged that the Jews, though scattered in all the regions of the habit- 
able globe, subjected to all varieties of climatic, social and economic 
conditions, nevertheless present everywhere the same characteristics 
with a remarkable uniformity. Demographic and social phenomena, 
such as fertility, mortalit}', marriage rates, illegitimacy, intermarriage, 
divorce, criminality, etc., were all attributed to ethnic origins, to 
Semitic influences. 

Anthropological research has, however, revealed that there is no 
such thing as Jewish race, that ethnically Jews differ according to 
the country and even the province of the country in which they happen 
to live, just as catholics or protestants in various countries differ from 
each other. It was shown that there are various types of Jews, tall and 
short, blond and brunette, brachycephalic and dolichocephalic, etc.; 
and that all these types appear to correspond to the types encountered 
among the non-Jewish population among which they live. ' Eace ' 
can, consequently, not be the only cause of the demographic and social 
peculiarities said to be characteristic of the Jews. Other causes are to 
be sought for. 

In the following studies statistical data of recent censuses in various 
European countries have been utilized in an attempt to find primarily 
whether the Jews do actually present uniformly, as has been alleged, 
similar social and demographic phenomena in every country, irrespect- 
ive of difference of the physical and social environment. While the 
ethnic factor has not been neglected, still, in cases in which race in- 
fluence is not sufficient to explain satisfactorily a social or demo- 
graphic fact, or is in direct contradiction with actual conditions, the 
effects of the physical environment and of social conditions have been 
looked into. The author assumes that if an ethnic cause exclusively 
underlies a given social fact observed among the Jews, then we should 

VOL. LXIX. — 17 



expect that the Jews in every country would present the same pe- 

I will begin with the question of the fertility of the Jews. 

I. Natality 

From the enormous mass of vital statistics collected during the 
past century, nothing definite could be established as to the influence 
of race on the birth rate. On the one hand, one would be led to 
believe that the Teutons have a high birth rate, when judged by the 
proportion of births in the German empire, but, on the other hand, in 
Scandinavia, where the Teutons have preserved themselves in a much 
greater purity, the rates are comparatively low, and the same is true of 
England. The Slavonic races in eastern Europe have a very high 
degree of fertility, but the differences in the various provinces of 
Eussia, Poland and Austria are so great as to disprove directly the 
contention that race is necessarily the cause. In the same manner, the 
differences in the rates in Italy and southern France are striking. 
The racial elements are about the same in both countries, yet the birth 
rate of Italy is much higher than that of France. The Jews in Europe, 
owing to their isolation and alleged abstinence from intermarriage with 
other peoples, should offer good material for the solution of the ques- 
tion on the influence of race on fertiltv. 

It has been observed all over Europe that the birth rates of the 
Jews are low. When compared with the non-Jewish population of 
some countries, like Prussia, Bavaria, Bohemia, etc., they are only one 
half as fertile as the christians. Some authors have asserted that 

1 The term ' christian ' includes : In Algeria, the Europeans living in that 
colony, the Mohammedan inhabitants being polygamous can not be compared 
with the monogamous Jews; in Warsaw Roman Catholics are referred to, and 
in European Russia, Greek Orthodox; in all the rest it includes the total non- 
Jewish population of the country. 



2 59 

this has a definite physiologic or ethnic bjtsis as its cause, which is 
common to all Jews living in different countries. The social environ- 
ment, such as economic prosperity, occupation, city life, etc., and also 
climatic conditions, were not considered. ' Race ' was a satisfactory 
explanation. But the figures in the appended table giving birth rates 
of the Jews and christians in various European countries disprove the 
ethnic theory of the low birth rate of the Jews. If it was a phys- 
iological characteristic of the Jews, we should expect that the rates 
in every country would be about the same. As a matter of fact, how- 
ever, the figures show wide limits of variation. In Algeria the rate 
is 44.67 per 1,000 population; in Galicia, 38.01; in Russia, 35.79, etc., 
while in Bavaria and Bohemia it is only 17.8, and in the city of 
Prague only 15.85. Ethnic conditions are never known to display 
such wide limits of variation. 

It appears from these figures that wherever the rates are higher 
among the christian population, the Jews also show higher rates and 
the reverse. This is particularly striking when separate provinces of 
a country are considered. The following figures, taken from Ruppin's 
work on the Jews, illustrate this fact in Austria: 



Birth Rate per 1,000 Population. 









42 81 



Total Austria 


It is thus seen that in Galicia and Bukowina, where the birth rates 
of the christians are high, the Jews also have a high rate, while in 
Bohemia and Lower Austria the rates for both Jews and christians are 
low. In the fifteen provinces of Russia which constitute the so-called 
' Pale of Settlement,' the same phenomenon was revealed in the statis- 
tics collected during the census of 1897, the birth rate of the christian 
population being 51.71, and that of the Jews, 32.13 per 1,000 popula- 
tion. From the figures presented below, it appears that in the prov- 
inces where the higher birth rates are observed among the christians 
the Jews also are more fertile, and the reverse. Thus in Ekater- 
inoslav and Kieff the highest rates are recorded among both Jews and 
christians, while in Kovno, Bessarabia and Wilna the lowest rates are 
recorded both among the Jews and the christians. With two excep- 
tions (Minsk and Poltava) the rule appears to hold good. 

Christians. Jews. 

Ekaterinoslav 61.82 42.28 

Kieff 55.44 39.92 

Minsk 54.90 29.76 


Christians. Jews 

Cherson 54.30 34.15 

Volkynia 53.31 35.67 

Taurida 52.51 34.48 

Mohileff 52.30 28.16 

Podolia 52.06 34.66 

Grodno 50.96 29.84 

Chernigoff 50.67 28.13 

Poltava 49.00 36.51 

Witebsk 46.85 31.00 

Wilna 45.10 21.72 

Bessarabia 44.46 27.91 

Kovno 40.98 27.34 

An attempt has been made by several statisticians to find some 
geographical differences in the birth rates of Europe. Sundbarg points 
out that some striking differences are to be noted in the rates when 
eastern Europe is compared with western Europe. He calculated an 
annual rate per 1,000 population for eastern Europe, 46.1 ; for western 
Europe, 33.6 ; southwest, only 32.3, and northwest, 34.7. On the whole, 
his calculations are well-founded, although there are some exceptions 
which are attributed to social conditions of a local nature. A glance 
at the table of the birth rates of the Jews in various European coun- 
tries shows that while their fertility is everywhere lower than that of 
the christians, still in general they follow the rule laid down by Sund- 
barg. Taking Eussia, Poland and Galicia as typical of eastern Europe, 
we find that the rates for the Jews are highest, reaching 38.01 in 
Galicia. Considering Bavaria as typical of the west, we find here the 
lowest rate, only 17. Amsterdam is intermediate between these two, 
only 24.82, corresponding roughly to the northwest of Europe. For 
the south there are no available data, except some collected in the 
middle of the last century (1861) showing that in Tuscany the birth 
rate was 27.2 among the Jews as against 39.0 among the christians. 

It thus appears that the Jews follow quite closely the rates observed 
in Europe. The highest rates are observed in the east, the lowest in 
the west, etc. It is also known that in Denmark the birth rate of the 
Jews is very low, corresponding to the north, and in France conditions 
are similar to those observed among the French. In general it can be 
stated that with some local exceptions Sundbarg's rule holds as good 
for Jews as for non-Jews in Europe. 

It would be misleading to explain the lower birth rates of the Jews 
when compared with christians as due to a physiological characteristic 
having as its cause a peculiar ethnic trait. The facts that the rates are 
not everywhere the same, but show wide variations, and that these 
variations correspond more or less closely to those observed among 
the non-Jewish population, are against any such theory. A close study 
of certain social conditions of the Jews offers a more reliable explana- 



It is noteworthy that the birth rates of the Jew? are decreasing 
much more decidedly than those of the Christians in the countries in 
which they live. In Poland, for instance, the birth rate of the Jews 
was in 1891, 36.98, sinking in 1901 to 30.85, while among the Catholic 
population of that city it remained stationary, 41.58 and 41.59, re- 
spectively. In Roumania it decreased among the Jews from 40.14 
in 1896 to 32.36 in 1902, as against an increase of from 41.19 to 
42.86 among the Christians. In Hungary also the rate sank from 
36.86 in 1891-95, to 32.19 in 1903. In western Europe this de- 
crease of the birth rates among the Jews is actually appalling. In 
Bavaria the difference between 1876 and 1903 is nearly one half: 


Annual Birth Rate. 
Jews. Christiana. 

34.4 45.9 

17.8 37.8 

The birth rate of the Jews has thus decreased nearly one half within 
twenty-seven years, while among the christians the decrease is only 
slight. That this is not due to any special cause operating in 1903 is 
shown by the fact that it has been steadily going down. The average 
annual rates were in Bavaria as follows: 

1876-1880 33.5 

1888-1890 26.3 

1890-1900 19.9 

1903 17.8 

In Prussia the same phenomenon is to be observed. The rates have 
decreased since 1875 among the Jews and increased among the Chris- 
tians. As Arthur Ruppin shows, if we consider the absolute number 
of births during 1875 as 100, then it is found that during 1903 only 
61.56 per cent, were recorded among the Jews, while among the chris- 
tians it increased to 118.47 per cent. In the following table, giving 
the rates in Prussia for eighty consecutive years, is shown the steady 
fall of the fertility of the Jews; it shows that the christians bear 
nearly double the number of children as the Jews: 
















The same is found to be the case in the United States : from statis- 
tics collected by the eleventh census (Census Bulletin No. 19, 1890), 
it is seen that the birth rate of the Jews is only 20.81 per 1,000 
population, which is at least ten per 1,000 lower than the average birth 
rate among the general population. A fairer means of comparison, 



however, is the ratio of births with reference to the number of women 
of child-bearing age present, viz., those between 15 and 49 years of 
age, inclusive. This rate was found to be 72.87 per 1,000, as against 
82.9 in Massachusetts, and 86 in Rhode Island. During the six years 
in which this investigation was made by the census officials, the rates 
among the Jews were decreasing perceptibly, showing the same tend- 
ency as is observed among the Jews in Europe. Physicians who 
practise their profession among the immigrant Jewish population of 
New York City all agree that its fertility is decidedly decreasing. 
Those who have been a longer time in the United States are always 
inquiring about the best means of limiting the size of the family, while 
the native Jews are hardly to be distinguished in this respect from the 
average American city population. 

In no country in the civilized world is there to be seen such 
formidable decline in fertility as among the Jews in western Europe. 
In Germany the rates among the christians have remained about the 
same since the beginning of the nineteenth century; since 1840 the 
rates have been about 36, and remained so at the beginning of the 
twentieth century. In some provinces it has only slightly decreased, 
as in Prussia from 37.8 in 1841 to 36.5 in 1900. The most striking 
decline in procreative capacity is said to be observed in France. But 
even there it was 27.3 in 1841-50, and it sank to 22 in 1900. This 
is considered the most appalling decline. But among the Jews racial 
self-effacement is much more pronounced; in Prussia the birth rate 
sank from 35.46 in 1822-40 to 18.71 in 1904; in Bohemia, Bavaria, 
etc., the rates are lower, only 17 per 1,000 population; in large cities 
like Berlin, it is even lower, almost on the verge of reaching a vanishing 
point. The effects of this violent race suicide are evident to every 
one: the number of native Jews in those countries is decreasing in rapid 
strides to an extent unknown in the history of any civilized people. 

It has been stated that, notwithstanding the low birth rate, the 
Jews have a higher marriage fecundity or fruitfulness than the chris- 
tians. This is not borne out by facts. In the following table it is 
seen that in Russia, Prussia and Bavaria the average number of chil- 
dren to a marriage is smaller than among their non-Jewish neighbors. 


















That this low fecundity has not always been observed among the Jews 
is shown from figures about the Bavarian Jews collected by J. Thon. 


The average number of children per marriage was during 1876-80, 
4.75; it decreased during the next five-year period to 4.15; during 
1886-90 to 3.49; then a further fall was observed to 3.01; during 
1896-1900 it was only 2.50, and during 1902 and 1903 it again de- 
creased, falling to an average of 2.20 and 2.31 children, respectively, 
per marriage. 

In western Europe, where the birth rates of the Jews are lower, 
their fecundity is also lower. As will be seen later, this goes hand- 
in-hand with late marriges, celibacy, etc., among the Jews. In Russia, 
Poland, Galicia, Algiers, etc., where they are isolated from their chris- 
tian neighbors and remain unaffected by what is generally known as 
modern civilized life, they marry earlier, have few celibates and raise 
large families. The birth rates are as a result quite high, though not 
as high as among the christians, who are largely engaged in agricul- 
ture and marry even earlier, as is the case in Russia and Galicia. Yet 
it must be remembered that in small cities in eastern Europe it is con- 
sidered a sin for a Jew to remain unmarried, and an old maid in the 
family is a disgrace. In western Europe, on the other hand, the Jews 
are on a high social, economic and intellectual plane. Such people can 
not afford to marry early, and, after marriage, are not anxious to 
raise large families, for reasons known to-day in every large city. As 
a result they bear fewer children. Striking illustrations of this con- 
dition are presented in Austria. In Galicia and the Bukowina the 
rates are high, which goes hand-in-hand with poverty and strict ad- 
herence to their religious belief; in Bohemia and Lower Austria the 
rates are low, corresponding to the social and economic prosperity of 
the Jews in these provinces with the concomitant late marriages, 
celibacy, voluntary restriction, etc. In the United States also the 
newly arriving immigrants have a high fecundity, while the native 
Jews rarely raise large families. 

Sex at Birth 

The number of boys at birth exceeds the number of girls among 
most European nations. In some countries, like Greece and Roumania, 
the ratio is 112 to 100 girls, but the average appears to be about 103 
and 105 for European countries. It was alleged that among the 
Jews this excess of male births is more pronounced than among the 
non-Jewish population. Ignorant, as we are, of the cause of the pre- 
ponderance of males at birth, this excess, not being influenced by the 
social and physical environment, was considered a race trait of the 

From statistics of the Russian Pale of Jewish settlement it is seen 
that there is actually a very large excess of male births among the 


Jews: During 1897 there were recorded 115,344 Jewish births, of 
which 66,03G were males and 49,308 were females, or 133.91 boys to 
100 girls. But a careful study of these figures brings forth strong 
suspicion as to their accuracy. Thus, when we examine the various 
provinces we find great variations. In Taurida the ratio was only 
106.15 boys to 100 girls; in Cherson, 112.15; in Poltava, 112.87; 
while in Wilna it reached 177.47; in Grodno, 170.62; in Minsk, 165.45. 
In general, it can be stated that in the southern provinces the excess 
of males is not much larger among the Jewish population than among 
the christians, while in the northwestern provinces the excess is very 
high. That climatic conditions are not the cause is shown by the 
fact that among the christians the excess of males is not much more 
pronounced in the northwest than in the south. In Wilna it was 
only 110 and in Grodno 112. Two provinces not far distant from 
each other, like Wilna and Curland, show great differences in the 
proportion of male births among the Jews — 172.8 in the former and 
only 115.4 in the latter. Climatic conditions can not therefore be 

If the excess of males were really as large as the above figures 
would seem to indicate, we should expect that the number of male 
infants below one year of age would also be excessive among the Jews. 
But from the census statistics of 1897 it is shown that it was only 
104.21 boys to 100 girls below one year of age. The higher mortality 
of male infants is not sufficient to account for the loss of so many 
boys during the first year of their life. 

The only plausible explanation for this apparent excess is that 
a large number of female births are not reported to the authorities by 
the midwives and rabbis, who are expected to register each birth. The 
birth of a boy in a Jewish family is accompanied by important 
festivals and ceremonials, while the birth of a girl, particularly among 
the poorer classes, is not considered of any special importance and is 
not attended by any ceremonials. It is very dangerous in later life 
for a boy who has not been registered at birth: he can not obtain 
a passport, and may be drawn into military service unjustly. All this 
brings it about that practically all the boys are registered, while a large 
number of female births is missing from the registry books. That this 
is the true explanation is seen from the fact that in 1893 the proportion 
of male births was 145.9 to 100 females, while in 1899 it was only 
130.6, indicating a more complete registration of female births in 
recent years. 

If the excessive proportion of male births was a racial trait of the 
Jews it would be expected that the same phenomenon should be ob- 
served among Jews in other countries. But this is not the case. 
In Warsaw, Poland, the ratio was in 1897 only 106 boys to 100 girls. 


Ethnically there are hardly any differences between the Polish and 
Lithuanian Jews, still the latter show a ratio of 173 in Wilna, which 
again confirms the opinion that the excess in Wilna is due to neglect 
in reporting female births. In Prussia also the proportion was in 
1893-1902, 106.24 (105.94 among the christians) ; in Austria in 1901 
it was 107.85 (106.04 among the christians). In Prague the number 
of male births among the Jews in 1901 was equal to that of the female 
births, although among the christians there was an excess of males 
amounting to 104.1 per cent. In the United States the excess of male 
births is not large among the Jews, only 103.16 (Census Bulletin No. 
19, 1890), while among the general population of Massachusetts and 
Rhode Island it is much higher. 

Proportion of Stillbirths 

Older statistics of stillbirths quoted by Bergman, Lagneau, Jacobs, 
etc., indicate that stillbirths occur less frequently among Jews than 
among Gentiles. More recent data on the subject show that this is 
not the case with the Jews in every country. Thus in Amsterdam the 
proportion of stillbirths in 1900 was among the Jews 3.48 per cent, of 
the total number of births, and much larger among the non-Jewish 
population, 4.81 per cent.; but in Warsaw it was in 1901 5.68 per 
cent, among the Jews, and only 4.13 among the christians. On the 
other hand, in Bavaria, it was in 1902-03 about the same among 
both, Jews (2.6 per cent.) and christians (2.9 per cent.). In Austria 
there are also no important differences. In 1901 the percentage of 
stillbirths was among Jews 2.61 and among christians 2.79. The 
most reliable statistics are collected in Prussia. The following are 
the percentages 


Jews. Christians. 

1875-1809 3.20 3.58 

1901 3.07 3.03 

1902 2.93 3.00 

1903 2.83 2.99 

There is practically no material difference in this respect among 
Jews and christians in Prussia. It should be mentioned in this con- 
nection that the smaller number of illegitimate births among the Jews 
would lead one to expect a smaller percentage of stillbirths, because the 
proportion of stillbirths is very large among illegitimates. The sug- 
gestion made by some that the large proportion of boys born among 
Jews is due to the fact that the percentage of stillbirths is small is 
also not to be seriously considered, simply because the proportion of 
stillbirths is not smaller among them. It must, however, not be over- 
looked that the percentage of stillbirths among the Jews varies with 
conditions observed among non-Jews in a given country. It is high 



among the Jews in Warsaw, and low among the Jews in Prussia, just 
as it is among the christians in these countries. In other words, in 
eastern Europe, where childbirth is attended to by ignorant midwives, 
the proportion of stillbirths is larger than in western Europe, where 
either physicians or trained midwives are in attendance. Stillbirths 
are, after all, greatly dependent on economic conditions. They are 
very frequently met with among people in the lowest social and 
economic strata, and rare among the prosperous. 

Illegitimate Births 

Illegitimacy has often been taken as an index of the morality of 
a community. While it may be a true index in many countries, yet 
in some countries, owing to special marriage laws, an excessive pro- 
portion of illegitimate births is not necessarily an indication of vice. 
A good illustration is presented in Austria. There a child is con- 
sidered illegitimate in case the parents have not registered their mar- 
riage with the civil authorities. It appears that the Jews in Galicia 
and Bukowina very often neglect to register their marriages and con- 
sider their religious ceremony as sufficient. As a result of this special 
law, it is found that while nowhere else is the proportion of illegitimate 
births among the Jews over four per cent., it reaches in Austria 61.37 
per cent. In Storozynee the records even show 99.61 per cent, of illegi- 
timate births among the Jews, which is manifestly absurd. 



Per Cent, of Illegitimacy. 












































It is seen from the above figures that about seven illegitimate 
children are born to christians in Bavaria to one to Jews ; in Amsterdam 
it is about three to one, in Warsaw seven to one, in Prussia and 
Budapest two to one, and in Eussia five to one. The high percentage 
in Austria and in part of Budapest has already been explained above as 
being of no significance. 


It is noteworthy that the percentage of illegitimacy among the 
Jews increases as we proceed from east to west of Europe. It is very 
low in Russia, about one-half of one per cent, higher in Bavaria, 2.5 
per cent., and reaches over three per cent, in Prussia, while in Berlin 
it is even 5.55 per cent. This indicates that where the Jews are not 
affected by modern civilized conditions, the chastity of the women is 
much superior, the family ties are much stronger, and the girls only 
rarely go wrong. In the small towns of Russia, Poland and Galicia, 
one only rarely hears of a Jewish child born out of wedlock. Un- 
married women seldom associate, even socially, with men before mar- 
riage. The absence of alcoholism, particularly among Jewesses who 
never drink, is another factor in keeping the sexes apart. But in the 
large cities in eastern Europe, where the separation of the sexes is 
not so strict, illegitimacy is encountered. In western Europe it is 
more frequent for the same reason. It was shown by Euppin that in 
Germany illegitimacy is rarer among the Jews in eastern Prussia 
(Posen, Pomerania, East and West Prussia) where they adhere strictly 
to their orthodox religion, while in the large cities, where they have 
adopted many of the habits and customs of their christian neighbors, 
the percentage of illegitimacy is much higher, though still smaller than 
among non-Jews. In Russia also it is rare in Lithuania, only 0.02 per 
cent, in the province of Wilna, 0.24 per cent, in Minsk, 0.19 in Kovno, 
etc., while in the southern provinces it occurs more often, reaching 
1.57 per cent, in Bessarabia and 1.19 per cent, in Ekaterinoslav. 

It is well known that illegitimate births are very rare among women 
living with their parents, while agricultural servants, domestics, factory 
hands, etc., show the highest percentage of births out of wedlock. The 
Jewish women in eastern Europe only rarely live away from their 
parents or relatives, comparatively few are engaged in domestic 
service, and practically none are agricultural servants. In the small 
town a Jewish girl rarely works outside of her home. In western 
Europe social conditions of the Jews are nearer those of the christians 
among whom they live, and illegitimacy is more frequent than in the 
east. But inasmuch as the economic condition of the Jews in western 
Europe is superior to the average non-Jewish, the women being taken 
better care of, illegitimacy is rarer than among Gentiles. 



By S. E. SLOCUM, Ph. D. 


HH HE history of mechanics affords a notable instance of what may be 
~ L called the relativity of science. In the course of its develop- 
ment three distinct sets of mechanical principles have been formulated, 
each having served in its turn as the foundation of a complete system 
of mechanics. The first set of principles may be regarded as the first 
mental image which man formed of the causes underlying the natural 
motion of material bodies, and, although admirable in many respects, 
was necessarily somewhat crude and naive. With increased mentality 
came the formation of a new image, showing a greater maturity of 
thought than the first and offering a more powerful method of analysis. 
Finally, in recent times, a third image has been formed, which, although 
not essentially different in content from the others, exhibits a greater 
refinement of thought and expression. It is the purpose in what fol- 
lows to outline briefly these three stages of development, and sketch 
the chief characteristics of each. 

The first scientific development of mechanics arose from investi- 
gations concerning the equilibrium and motion of the simple machines 
in common use, such as the lever, inclined plane and pulley. This 
order of development was inevitable for the twofold reason that these 
implements had become familiar by centuries of use, and that they made 
a direct appeal to the understanding through the grosser and more ele- 
mentary sensations of weight and pressure. In the second century, 
B.C., these investigations culminated in Archimedes's famous statement 
of the principle of the lever, but for seventeen centuries thereafter this 
statement remained the only instance of correct reasoning on natural 
phenomena. Apparently human experience did not yet suffice to ex- 
tend the interpretation of natural law, as witnessed by the Ptolemaic 
system of astronomy, and Aristotle's division of motions into natural 
and violent; a classification which served rather to obscure than 
elucidate the subject. 

In the latter part of the fifteenth century a fresh start was made, 
and the principle of the lever, handed down from Archimedes, was 
further investigated and generalized by Guido Ubaldi and Leonardo 
da Vinci. In 1586 these results were extended by Simon Stevin, 
who, by hanging a string of fourteen balls over a triangular support, 
established the properties of the inclined plane, and generalized his 


results by stating the triangle of forces. These pioneers were followed 
by a host of lesser investigators, and by the middle of the sixteenth 
century this activity had resulted in the establishment of that branch 
of mechanics which is now called statics. 

The next step was the introduction of the fundamental elements 
of time and mass in an attempt to investigate the laws of motion. At 
first little progress was made, as the misconception prevailed that a 
constant supply of force was necessary to keep a body in motion. Pro- 
longed experiment and investigation, however, gradually resulted in 
a clearer understanding of these phenomena, and finally led to a correct 
statement of the first law of motion by the great Italian philosopher 
Galileo Galilei. Subsequent investigation of the motion of projectiles 
and falling bodies led Galileo to the two great ideas of inertia and the 
accelerating action of force, and enabled him to also state the second 
and third laws of motion. In addition to these great discoveries, Galileo 
generalized the law of equilibrium by stating the principle of virtual 
velocities, thus giving the first general solution of all problems in 

For the next century the development of mechanics consisted chiefly 
in an application of the principles of statics to liquids and gases. The 
only notable advance in mechanical principles during this period was 
made by Hu} r ghens, who, in connection with his invention of the 
pendulum clock, investigated the center of oscillation and was thus 
led to a more general statement of the third law of motion. 

The four fundamental ideas of space, time, force and mass were 
now firmly established, but until the time of Newton found expression 
only in an inorganic mass of facts and principles. Newton's discovery 
of gravitation, however, led to such a broad generalization of these 
ideas as to make possible a systematic treatment of the subject, and 
mechanics as a science may be said to date from the publication of his 
famous Principia in 1686. Newton's claim to preeminence, therefore, 
rests not on the discovery of new mechanical principles, but on the 
immeasurably greater service of bringing all natural phenomena under 
the reign of universal law. 

Only one element was now lacking to complete the series of inde- 
pendent fundamental statements necessary to constitute the foundation 
of a complete system of mechanics. There still remained the estab- 
lishment of a general relation between these fundamental concepts, 
and after eighty years of experiment and investigation along the lines 
indicated by Newton, this relation was furnished by d'Alembert in the 
statement of his famous principle. 

This closed the first stage of development. The image was now 
complete, and henceforth a system of mechanics based on this founda- 
tion must be a purely deductive science. The subsequent history of 


mechanics verifies this statement, for since the time of d'Alembert no 
essentially new principle has been discovered, and Gauss may be quoted 
as authority for saying that none ever can be. 

The second stage of development was characterized by the elabora- 
tion of the system of mechanics formulated by Archimedes, Galileo, 
Newton and d'Alembert. In the course of this process a new view of 
the fundamental ideas underlying the subject was attained, which 
resulted in establishing mechanics upon an entirely different basis. 
The first step in this direction was made by Euler, and consisted in 
replacing the geometrical methods of Newton and his predecessors by 
those of analysis. Euler thus laid the foundation for a system of 
analytical mechanics which was brought to its perfection by Lagrange 
in his generalized equations of motion. 

This new representation of mechanics was followed by the estab- 
lishment in the early part of the last century of two great principles ; 
the principle of least action and the principle of the conservation of 
energy. It is important to note in this connection, however, that each 
of these principles is deducible from that of d'Alembert, and, conse- 
quently, that their establishment did not increase the number of 
independent fundamental postulates. 

The first of these principles dates back to the attempt of Maupertuis 
to establish on theological grounds a principle of similar nature but 
of much more limited scope. This attempt, although fruitless in itself, 
served to direct thought in a new channel, and finally led Gauss to 
the statement of his ' Principle of Least Constraint.' This in turn 
led investigators to the idea that all natural phenomena present a 
maximum or a minimum, and induced Euler and Jacobi to seek ex- 
pressions whose conditions for a minimum would give the equations of 
motion. From this it was but a step to the establishment of Hamilton's 
principle, which consists in the analytical statement that the variations 
of work and energy vanish for the initial and final configurations. As 
Hamilton's principle includes both conservative and non-conservative 
systems, it constitutes a generalization of the principle of least action. 

This second principle, like the first, was the product of evolution, 
as the ideas underlying it had been the subject of investigation from 
the time of Leibnitz and Descartes. The principle did not assume 
definite form, however, until the middle of the nineteenth century, 
when it was stated by several investigators almost simultaneously as 
the law of the conservation of energy. The names most closely asso- 
ciated with this principle are those of Mayer, Joule and Helmholtz, 
and it is curious to note that each of these scientists arrived at his 
results by a different process ; Mayer by philosophical reasoning, Joule 
by experimentation and Helmholtz by mathematical analysis. 

The establishment of this law marked the close of the second stasre 


of development. Energy replaced force as a fundamental idea, and a 
new system of mechanics resulted, founded on the relations between 
space, time, mass and energy, as embodied in Hamilton's principle. 

Although a comparatively short time has elapsed since the estab- 
lishment of energetics as the basis of mechanics, a third stage of de- 
velopment is already clearly marked. To characterize each stage by a 
single word, the first may be called constructive, the second deductive 
and the third, or present stage, critical. To the founders of the first 
two systems the concepts of force and mass, although more artificial 
than the intuitive ideas of space and time, were probably no less axio- 
matic. With the growth of modern scientific criticism, however, came 
the desire to go back of intuition, if that be possible, and subject the 
foundations of science to the last analysis. As the result of this tend- 
ency the foundations of the first two systems were found open to certain 
objections, which have been admirably expressed by the late Heinrich 
Hertz. The chief objection to the first system is in relation to the 
idea of force, any definition of which seems to involve its author in 
certain logical difficulties somewhat similar to those encountered in 
attempting to define a straight line. In the second system, criticism 
is aimed not at the fundamental concepts, but at the relation between 
them as expressed in Hamilton's principle, the objections to which are 
twofold : namely, that it has no simple, natural interpretation, and that 
it seems to endow matter with the attributes of thought and volition. 
A further objection is made to both systems on the ground of a certain 
redundancy in the fundamental ideas, three fundamental concepts being 
both necessary and sufficient, according to Kirchhoff, for the develop- 
ment of a complete system of mechanics. 

In view of these and other objections, Hertz and his followers have 
outlined an ideal system of mechanics based upon three elements only : 
namely, space, time and mass. To supplement the deficiency caused 
by the lack of a fourth element without increasing the number of funda- 
mental concepts, Hertz has introduced the idea of concealed motions 
acting in connection with those visible to the senses. This idea was 
originated by Lord Kelvin in his theory of vortex atoms, and was 
further developed by Maxwell in his attempt to explain electro- 
magnetic action. The first complete treatment of concealed motions, 
however, was given by Helmholtz, and in the hands of his pupil Hertz 
it has proved a powerful instrument in establishing mechanics upon 
a more satisfactory basis. 

What the future of mechanics may be it is of course impossible 
to predict. However, the brief review of its development that has 
just been given suggests that the foundations have reached bed rock, 
and that future effort must be directed toward the enlargement of the 
superstructure and its adaptation to the growing needs of humanity. 





npHE best diamonds of the world, those of finest color and fire, come 
■*- from Brazil, though most of the stones mined are small in size 
as compared with those from other sections. They occur in various 
places, more particularly Goyaz, Matto Grosso, Minas Geraes and 
Bahia. It is only in the latter two states in which they have been 
found in sufficient quantities to warrant mining. 

The exact date of the discovery of diamonds in Brazil is unknown. 
At the end of the seventeenth century miners were taking out gold 
in Minas Geraes at Serro Frio and failed to recoguize the diamonds 
which were occurring therewith. It is said that some stones were 
collected more because of their regularity and beauty of crystalliza- 
tion than from knowledge of their value. These in 1729 found 
their way to Portugal, where they were recognized as diamonds of 
unusual purity. The discovery caused quite a sensation at the court 
of King John V. There was a rush to the newly-discovered region, 
but the king so restricted mining that little was done until subsequent 
to 1832, when the present laws became effective. 

Diamonds were first discovered in Bahia in 1840 at Santo Ignacio 
at the extreme northwest of the present region, but not until 1844, when 
discovery was made by a slave on the banks of the Mocoje river, the 
present location of Sao Joao do Paraguassii, was any great impetus 
given to mining. The mining area has gradually extended, but no 
new section was discovered until 1881 when by accident a find was 
made at Salobro, the diamonds of which usually take the name of 
Cannavieiras, the port to which they pay tribute. 

The quality of Brazilian diamonds varies greatly with the locality 
in which found, while there is always a considerable difference between 
those of the same mine. In general, those from Minas Geraes are 
fairly assorted in quality, about Salobro (Cannavieiras) the beautiful 
whites and priceless blue whites predominate, while the other Bahia 
stones are inclined to be more off-colored and frequently contain black 
specks, thereby lowering their value. 

The greater part of the Bahia diamonds differ from those found 
elsewhere in the world in that they frequently have a thin coat of 
surface color which gives the Avhole stone a bad appearance. This 
color will not yield to acids. To one particularly skilled, the under- 


Lying true color can be determined, but to make the stones marketable 
abroad where this is unknown, recourse is had to heating them red hot 
and pouring on a chemical when the crust is consumed and the real 
color appear-. 1 have seen apparently dirty red, green, brown, blackish 
and vellow stones after burning turn out to be pure whites and blue 
whites. Stones so treated lose in weight about one per cent., and 
those with cracks or defects frequently break to pieces. 

The largest authentic Brazilian diamond ever found is the famous 
'Estrella do Sul ' (Star of the South). It weighed 254.5 carats in 
the rough, and cut and polished weighs 124% carats, with a value of 
$450,000. The greater number of diamonds found are less than one 
carat; the average weight is about two carats, while a stone of 10 carats 
is a great exception. 

Carbons which occur along with diamonds are very ordinary look- 
ins: stones and would be refused as a present bv any one not well 
acquainted with them. Their history is very obscure. Other than 
a few small ones found in Minas Geraes, and those are of poor quality, 
Bahia is the only known place where they occur. They seem to have 
been known in 1848, when a Frenchman traveling through Bahia 
bought them for twenty-seven cents a carat under the name of ' fer- 
ragens' (iron stones). In March, 1856, Mr. Domingos Gomez, of 
Boncador, took to London 6,475 carats, which he had bought for sixty 
cents a carat, and was more than pleased to sell them at $1.25 a carat. 
At that time their sole use was to be pounded to dust for use in dia- 
mond polishing. 

The later history of the carbon is the history of the so-called dia- 
mond drill which now constitutes their principal use. For this pur- 
pose stones weighing from 1% to 4 carats are desired and larger stones 
have to be broken to these sizes. The drill consists of 6 or 8 carbons 
set in a crown or cylinder of steel forming the bit. They are set in 
such a way that they alternately slightly project beyond the inner 
and outer edge, thereby cutting as they are rotated a core, which is 
brought to the surface from time to time as desired. Being the hardest 
known material they will cut the most refractory ores or stones. 

As the drill goes around the carbons wear off and have to be from 
time to time reset, until finally they become so small as to be useless. 
For this reason, unlike the diamond whose chief use is for adornment, 
the number of carbons is constantly growing less while the demand 
is' exceeding production. With the perfection of the drill and its great 
use in cutting tunnels, mines, canals, etc., the price of carbon has 
steadily gone up from $17 a carat in 1892 to $60 to-day in New York 
for the best quality of proper size, and the price obtained at the mines 
has been a fair equivalent. 

The average weight of carbons encountered is much larger than 

VOL. LXIX. — 18. 



that of the largest diamonds. The frequency of occurrence where the 
two occur together is in the proportion of three of the carbon to one 
of the diamond, by weight, while good quality carbon is worth more per 
carat than gem rough diamonds. The miners know this, and it is 
their constant desire to encounter carbons. Many of them go to the 
sacred tree near Lengoes, where the spirit of Santa Barbara, the patron 
saint of the miner, is said to have appeared, and place on a limb 
thereof a stone of the size of the carbon they wish to find. They then 
pray and it is said that the saint has blessed many of the faithful. 

The largest carbon ever encountered was found near Lengoes in 
1895, on the ledge of a mountain which had been worked some time 
before. It weighed, when found, 3,165 carats, was purchased from the 
miner for $16,000 and was finally exported to London, where it sold 
for $31,145, having lost about 50 carats meantime in drying out. In 
London it was broken into pieces suitable for drills and these pieces 
sold for about $40,000, while at the present price of carbon they would 
be worth about $158,000. 

The next largest carbon was found this year, and is still in the 
bands of the miner. It weighed when found 869 carats, but has lost 

Fig. 1. The Largest Carbon ever found. 


several carats in drying. It is of finest quality and almost rectangular 
shape. The equivalent of $26,400 was offered for it six months ago, 
but the owner has set a price which to-day is the equivalent of 
$45,625, an impossible figure, as in breaking there is always consider- 
able loss. When carbon advances beyond a certain figure the sale of 
necessity decreases, as then there are other products which are used 
even though lacking in durability and other desirable qualities. 

The genesis of the diamond and carbon has not been worked out 
for this section. Whatever it proves to be, it is certain that at one 
time they were all confined in a conglomerate which shows evidence 
of being of more recent geological date. The conglomerate differs in 
character in the different sections. In the neighborhood of Lavras 
Diamantinas it consists of many colored water-washed pebbles and 
boulders, chiefly sandstone of the same nature as the strata found im- 
mediately below it; in the Salobro region it consists chiefly of granite 
pebbles. In both instances the matrix is sand of different degrees of 
hardness, fineness and color. 

With the ages a great part of the conglomerate has disintegrated 
and the rains and rivers have washed the diamonds and carbons to 
the places where they are now being found. There are large masses 
of conglomerate in many places which have resisted this action, and 
unless mechanical means are brought to bear will continue to yield 
diamonds and carbons for the ages during their disintegration. 

The region about Salobro is comparatively flat, in fact the greatest 
deposit occurs in an area practically level, doubtless the old river bed. 
In the other sections of Bahia the country is rocky and mountainous. 
There is so much of rock and so little of soil that only small plants 
grow, and then only during the rain time. In some cases the rivers 
pass through gorges cut into the solid rock and most precipitous and 
awe-inspiring. On all sides there is much of interest. The rock 
formation is a very hard reddish sandstone which completely underlies 
the conglomerate and like it shows the disintegrating effects of water 
and climate. In places it has deep cracks which have become natural 
canals, accumulating with the ages a concentrated diamond- and 
carbon-bearing gravel. In other places immense pieces of sandstone 
and conglomerate are piled up heterogeneously as if they had been 
dumped there. The canal Simplicio Braga is a combination of these 
two varieties and was one of the richest finds of the region. 

The diamond section of Bahia is much more accessible than that 
of Minas Geraes. One can arrive at Andarahy, the heart of the region, 
in four days from Bahia City, five hours of one clay being spent in 
journey by boat, twelve hours of the next by train and two days by 
mule. The trip is without hardships to one accustomed to travel. It 
is along attractive scenery, across rivers and mountains, passing 
through a section with beautiful calcareous caves, but with an entire 

2 7 6 


Fig. 2. Home of a Wealthy Mine Owner. 

lack of water, except that of the river miles away and that caught 
•during the few rainfalls. 

Most of the mining is clone by individuals called ' garimpeiros,' 
•who either work for themselves or on shares with the owner of the 
■claim. In Bahia, the number of owners hiring laborers to work their 
claims is not more than half a dozen. 

The miners are almost entirely blacks or of mixed race. The 
greater part of them live in near-by towns, but many have quarters 
built beneath an overhanging ledge, from which they have removed the 
diamond-bearing material. 

Their food consists chiefly of native beans with jerked beef and an 
abundance of mandioca meal, which takes the place of bread, with now 
and then fresh meat, a much prized boiled dinner or a piece of salt 
fish. Drinking water is in abundance everywhere. Native rum can be 
had very cheap, yet the number addicted to intemperance is very small, 
wonderfully so for a mining region. 

Many times provisions are advanced by the grocer until a find is 
made, when all is paid up, and if there is a balance such high-priced 
articles as beer, American canned oysters, lobsters, etc., are indulged 
in as long as the money lasts. 

The health of the region leaves much to be desired. Because of the 
great quantities of semi-stagnant water on every hand, every facility is 
given to create anopheles mosquitoes, with the result that malaria in 
it? worst types is always in abundance. 

By far the greater part of the successful mining is still done by 
antiquated methods which have the advantage that they require little 
capital for an outfit. A miner's tools consist of a short-handled hoe 



with which to stir up diamond-bearing gravel in a sluice; a crowbar 
to pry up stone to lay bare deeper layers or to break down banks of 
clay or gravel; an iron hook on a pole with which to take diamond- 
bearing gravel from beneath large stones or from cracks otherwise 
inaccessible ; a small wooden basin, called c carimbe/ for carrying the 
gravel on the head ; a large wooden basin, called ' bateia,' for final 
washing and concentrating the gravel; some kind of a sieve, from a 
tin can with nail holes to a more pretentious wire sieve, for sorting 
gravel and sand during the washing or concentrating process; a ham- 
mer and drill for making holes in rock for blasting, but quite often 
instead fire is built upon a rock desired to be remove!, and after the 

Fig. 3. Home of Miner, built *nder Ledge from which Diamonds and 
Carbons have been removed. 

rock has become very hot cold water is poured thereon, effectively 
cracking it and permitting its removal. 

In the home of the carbon there are no carbon or other mechanical 
drills. At present one man can make from two to three holes a day, 
which with proper methods could be made in a few minutes. 

The method of mining differs in various sections. In the richest 
areas the work is of two kinds : removing the subsoil surface disintegra- 
tion and gravel and that in the gullies, cracks and beneath the more 
accessible stones, or mining by tunnels or following cracks into the 
pockets of the mountains, taking out the diamond- and carbon-bearing 
material consisting of soil, sand, gravel, boulders, broken and disin- 
tegrated stone, etc., called ' cascalho.' 

2 7 8 


The other method is in diving to the bottom of rivers and taking 
out the cascalho from there. This method is confined to a small 
section of the district where the river runs through a natural canal 

Fig. 4. Method of Mining; removing Subsoil to expose Cascalho. 

cut into the rock. The diving can only be done when the river is 
low and is chiefly done naked, though there are a few diving suits in 
use. The naked clivers descend a pole planted in the river and fill a 
sack with the cascalho, which is taken on shore for washing. The 
ability of some of these men to go to great depths and stay under for 
long intervals is extraordinary. In some places attempt is made to 
work the old river bed, but this is done with great difficulty, as water 
will seep in almost as fast it can be bailed out, leaving little time 
for the collection of cascalho. 

Whatever the method of taking the cascalho out, the great de- 
sideratum is an abundant supply of water for washing. Where it is 
possible water from mountain streams is conducted down by ditches 
and flumes, and into these the cascalho is thrown. It is worked with 
a hoe. by which method the lighter particles are washed away, thus 
leaving a greater concentration which includes the diamonds and 
carbons. The concentration is taken out of the ditches and accumu- 
lated until the week's end, when it is laboriously further concentrated 
in bateias. 

This final concentration and wash-up requires considerable dex- 
terity as well as strength. It consists in revolving and shaking the 
bowl that the portions of heavier specific gravity accumulate in the 



point in the bottom, while the lighter particles and the large stones 
are thrown on the edge of the bowl and are from time to time scraped 
away with the hand, being examined meantime. While the vision of 

Fig. 5. Six Miners bailing Water that One may collect Cascalho. 

Fig. (i. Final Concentration and Wash-up in Bateias. 

those engaged in this process is very sharp and the}' will frequently 
yet from investigation I know that by this method many large dia- 


take out from sand and pebbles diamonds smaller than a pin's head, 
monds and carbons escape them. This in part accounts for the reason 
why large diamonds and carbons are frequently found in gravel already 
washed and picked over. I have heard of places which have been 
washed for the fourth time and paid, though doubtless in some of these 
instances the later finds were due to disintegration of conglomerate 
which yielded up stones heretofore inaccessible. 

The limit of a good man is to concentrate and pick over a cubic 
yard of cascalho per clay, but this presupposes that the cascalho is 
easy of access and that the water is near at hand. If the cascalho has 
to be taken from the cracks, crevices, caves, etc., and with the present 
methods of mining those are the only places with virgin material 
which are accessible, it is accumulated very slowly. When it is re- 
membered that at the South Africa mines there is worked over 192,000 
cubic feet per day, it can readily be seen why the output of Brazil 
with its few thousand of hand-workers sinks into insignificance, if 
indeed the diamonds are in Brazil to extract. 

The 'mines of Minas Geraes have been worked regularly since their 
discovery, chiefly by hand methods until during the last ten years when 
some machinery has been installed to aid in the separation of the 
diamond-producing gravel from the clay and sand and later on in 
partly sorting the gravel prior to the final clean-up which is always 
by hand process. In Bahia a little machinery consisting of a few 
pumps, a gravel sorter and a so-called automatic separator, which does 
not separate, has been installed at Salobro, but it is being allowed to 
rust out, work at present being done by hand entirely ignoring the 
machinery. The only other machinery in the great Bahia district con- 
sists of a few pumps mounted by an English company on the Sao Jose 
river. This company has machinery in transit for mounting a small 
electro-hydraulic plant, but will still leave the clean-up to hand process 
instead of adopting the automatic table in use at South Africa. 

The diamondiferous lands of Bahia are owned by the state and 
leased either as small claims or large parcels to parties or companies 
desiring to work them. About all of the known areas capable of work 
with groups without machinery have been preempted. The nature of 
the work already done has been such that many productive areas have 
been covered with tailings. The river beds and other productive sec- 
tions which will necessitate machinery are still awaiting exploitation. 





Conspicuous among the events that 
attended the recent Ithaca meeting of 
the American Association for the Ad- 
vancement of Science, was the twentieth 
celebration of the founding of the Sigma 
Xi, and, as so little is known .about 
this organization, I venture to give a 
brief description of its history. 

The career of the Phi Beta Kappa 
Society has been a long and honorable 
one, having been founded at William 
and Mary College in Williamsburg, Va., 
on December 5, 1776, and it is, there- 
fore, the oldest of the so-called Greek 
letter societies. This organization, as 
is well known, admits to membership 
honor students in the humanities who 
are about to graduate, and the lack of 
any organization that should similarly 
recognize distinction in the study of 
the scientific branches led in 18S6 to 
the organization in Ithaca of the So- 
ciety of the Sigma Xi, which has as its 
objects to encourage original investiga- 
tion in science, pure and applied, and 
by meeting for the discussion of scien- 
tific subjects, as well as for the publi- 
cation of such scientific material as 
might be deemed desirable; and also to 
establish fraternal relations among in- 
vestigators in scientific centers. Its 
name is derived from its motto %irov6ov 
Swuveg, signifying Companions in 
Zealous Research. 

The success of the organization led 
to the establishment of a chapter in 
the Rensselaer Polytechnic in Troy and 
in Union University in Schenectady a 
year later. A chapter in the Univer- 
sity of Kansas in 1S90 and one at 
Yale University in 1895 followed. In 
1S96 a chapter was established at the 
University of Minnesota and one at the 
University of Nebraska in 1S97. The 
Ohio State University came next in 

1898, and the University of Pennsyl- 
vania in 1S99. With the opening of 
the new century came chapters at 
Brown and the University of Iowa, and 
then Stanford University and the Uni- 
versity of California, and Columbia 
University in 1901 and 1902. Three 
chapters were established in 1903, 
namely, at the University of Michigan, 
the University of Illinois, and the Uni- 
versity of Chicago, and a year later 
organizations were effected at the Case 
School and in the University of Indiana. 

Application for a chapter is now be- 
fore the council for the University of 
Wisconsin. Thus it will be seen that 
this organization has already secured a 
good foothold and has been established 
at nearly all of the larger universities. 

The first president was Henry S. 
Williams, of Cornell, one of the found- 
ers, who was succeeded by S. W. Willis- 
ton, of the University of Chicago, who 
two years ago gave place to E. L. 
Nichols, of Cornell. Biennial conven- 
tions are usually held in connection 
with the meeting of the American Asso- 
ciation for the Advancement of Sci- 
ence, the next of which will be held 
in December, 1906, many of its members 
being prominently connected with that 
organization. The membership is al- 
ready a large one, numbering more 
than a thousand persons, most of 
whom are either teachers of or ad- 
vanced students of science. 

The different chapters hold public 
meetings at which speakers of eminence 
are invited to address the organization. 
The badge or insignia is a watch charm 
or pendant consisting of the mono- 
gram formed in gold of the Greek letter 
Sigma superimposed on the greek letter 
Xi, the former being somwhat smaller 
than the latter. On the reverse side 
of the badge is engraved on the upper 



bar the name of the college in which 
the owner was initiated, together with 
the date of such initiation; while on 
the lower bar is the name of the owner 
with the numerals of the class in which 
he was graduated. The society has 
adopted as its colors electric blue and 
white. Its seal consists of a wreath 
of laurel, typifying the honorary char- 
acter of membership in the society, ar- 
ranged as an oval enclosing the words 
' the Society of the Sigma Xi ' at the 
top and the Greek motto at the bottom. 
These words form an inner oval con- 
centric with the first, punctuated with 
ten stars enclosing a field illuminated 
by the lamp of research. Above the 
lamp in the field of illumination is 
placed the monogram composed of the 
two Greek letters Sigma and Xi. and 

below it the date of the foundation, 
1 S5G. • 

At the celebration of the twentieth 
anniversary, representatives of nearly 
every chapter were present, and under 
the auspices of the local chapter a 
public address, commemorative of the 
occasion, on ' The Recent California 
Earthqiiake ' was delivered by Pro- 
fessor John C. Branner, of Stanford 
University. Subsequently a dinner 
was tendered to the visiting members 
which was presided over by Professor 
E. L. Nichols, when addresses were 
made by Dr. L. 0. Howard, who spoke 
of the affiliation of the Sigma Xi with 
the American Association, and by Pro- 
fessor Henry S. Williams who described 
its founding, and by other members of 
the societv. M. B. 





The retiring commissioner of educa- 
tion has been so completely identified 
with the Bureau of Education that it 
is difficult to imagine the institution 
without the man. Dr. Eliot, at Har- 
vard, and Dr. Harris, at Washington, 
have been our two great educational 
leaders, and when we turn to other 
lines of service — to the church, to medi- 
t-ine, to law, to journalism, to business, 
to politics— it is doubtful whether we 
can find elsewhere two men equally 
great. This is not a time to attempt 
an analysis of the work and limita- 
tions of a complex personality. It is 
better to quote the appreciation of a 
personal friend, Dr. Canfield : " He is 
indeed whole in himself, a common good 
— a man of amplest influence yet clear- 
est of ambitious crime, our greatest 
yet with least pretense; rich in a sa- 
ving common sense, and, as the greatest 
only are, in his simplicity sublime. His 
is the good gray head which all men 
know, and his the voice from which 
their omens all men draw. In the great 
battle of the public schools for sound 
and effective citizenship he is a tower 
of strength which stands foursquare to 
all the winds that blow." 

The commissionership of education 
has been filled by the appointment of 
Dr. Elmer E. Brown, professor of edu- 
cation in the University of California. 
We may again quote, this time from 
the editorial pages of the Outlook: 
" He has shown himself to be safe and 
sane, philosophic in temper, practical 
in choice of ends and means, witli un- 
usual administrative ability, ready to 
take the initiative, not carried away 
by undue enthusiasm for novelties, yet 
always alert for all that marks true 
advancement, energetic and active and 

industrious, an able writer and speak- 
er, and of a personality which makes 
him very acceptable in the educational 
world. In many ways and because 
of many characteristics and qualities he 
promises to be a worthy successor of 
one of the most widely revered educa- 
tors this country has ever had the good 
fortune to enlist in its service." 

Xo one can fill the vacancy left by 
Dr. Harris, but the new commissioner 
has a great opportunity for useful serv- 
I ice. It is safe to say that there is 
! no other country where public educa- 
tion is such an important factor in 
national life and at the same time no 
I other country in which it is so com- 
pletely neglected by the national gov- 
ernment. This paradox is of course 
due to the fact that public education is 
left to state and local authorities, as 
was doubtless intended by the federal 
constitution. But wisely or otherwise, 
the national government has contin- 
ually extended its functions. If it can 
examine banks, it can examine schools; 
if it can cooperate with states in their 
geological surveys, it can cooperate with 
them in their educational systems. As 
a matter of fact the constitution gives 
the congress power to ' provide for the 
common defense and general welfare 
of the United States. 5 Under the 
changed conditions of modern civiliza- 
tion, education, science, health and well- 
being are far more important for the 
common defense and general welfare of 
ihe nation than are the army and the 
na vy. 

But apart from cooperation with the 
states, such as now in fact exists in the 
case of the Department of Agriculture 
and the land grant colleges of agricul- 
ture and the mechanic arts, there is 
ample room to strengthen the Bureau 
of Education. After a secretary of 




commerce and labor has been added to 
the cabinet, it would be only decent to 
provide for a secretary of education. 
There is probably no other nation with- 
out a department of education. The 
salary of the commissioner of educa- 
tion is $3,500, and the powers of his 
office are very limited. The bureau 
has charge of education in Alaska and 
prepares an annual report containing 
statistics and papers on education; but 
this is all. It may be wise to let the 
work of the government for education, 
science and art be distributed among 
different departments on the financial 
side. But there should be cooperation 
and a great extension of what is now 
being done. The Bureau of Education 
is the natural center, and Ave may look 
to a great enlargement of its powers 
and influence in the near future. 


Dimitri Mendeleeff, the greatest of 
Russian chemists, was born in Siberia 
seventy-two years ago. From 1856 till 
1S59 he was an instructor "at the Uni- 
versity of St. Petersburg. After two 
years of study at Heidelberg, he re- 
turned to Russia in 1861. Two years 
later he was made professor of chem- 
istry at the Technological Institute in 
St. Petersburg and was transferred to 
the university in 1866. 

From the beginning Mendeleeff has 
been interested in theoretical problems. 
His first paper was on isomorphism. 
For years he worked on the relations 
between specific volumes and other 
properties. While others, notably 
Kopp, have worked along similar lines 
without making any great generaliza- 
tion in consequence, it must be ad- 
mitted that Mendeleeff's great dis- 
covery of the periodic law seems a 
natural development from the earlier 

In 1869 Mendeleeff announced that if 
the elements be arranged in the order 
cf their atomic weights, it will be 
found that similar variations in their 
chemical properties repeat themselves 

periodically, and that the order of the 
faculty of the elements to combine with 
other elements also corresponds with 
the order of their atomic weights. 

Like many another important gen- 
eralization, the real significance of this 
one is not self-evident. Before the 
periodic law was formulated, the 
atomic weights of the elements were 
purely empirical numbers, and it was 
not always easy to tell what multiple 
of a given value should be taken as 
the true atomic weight. This was 
changed by Mendeleeff's discovery. The 
periodic law made it possible to de- 
termine the atomic weights of yttrium, 
indium and beryllium, for instance. 
Mendeleeff went further than this. He 
pointed out that there were gaps in the 
table; that these must correspond to 
unknown elements; and that the prop- 
erties of these unknown elements could 
be predicted from those of the known 
elements surrounding the gaps in the 
table. C allium, scandium and german- 
ium have since been discovered and have 
the properties assigned to them in ad- 
vance by Mendeleeff. 

A more striking, though less dram- 
atic, proof of the soundness of Men- 
deleeff's generalization is to be found in 
the fact that the inert gases of the 
atmosphere, argon, helium, neon, etc., 
find places in the classification, though 
the possibility of there being such sub- 
stances was not suspected in 1869. It 
is not too much to say that the periodic 
law of Mendeleeff is recognized to-day 
as the only basis for the classification 
of the elements. Only two contradic- 
tions have been found in nearly forty 
years. The atomic weights of the ele- 
ments, iodine and tellurium, should be 
transposed to make these substances fit 
into the table, and there is no place for 
most of the so-called rare elements. 
The first difficulty will disappear if any 
one can show that either tellurium or 
iodine contains an unknown impurity. 
It must be admitted that the chances 
of this are not good at present. 

We can avoid the difficulty as to the 
rare earths by considering a group erf 




them as equivalent to one element. Do- 
ing this puts the rare earth elements 
on a somewhat different footing from 
the other elements. While this is 
justified to a certain extent by the 
chemical properties, it can not, in the 
nature of things, be a final solution. 
If we are not to throw over the periodic 
law, we must either split other so-called 
elements into groups of elements or we 
must show that certain groups of ele- 
ments alone are possible. To succeed 
in the first would be to revolutionize 
chemistry. To succeed in the second 
would be to explain the reason for the 
periodic law — which would also revolu- 
tionize chemistry. Whatever the out- 
come, MendeleefTs law will be for many 
years one of the dominant factors in 
chemical progress. 


Tjie agricultural appropriation bill 
for- the fiscal year ending June 30, 1907, 

as finally passed by the recent session 
of congress, carries an appropriation of 
$9,932,940. Of this amount the sums 
appropriated for what may be termed 
work in applied science are distri- 
buted as follows : The Bureau of Ani- 
mal Industry receives $4,029,400, but 
of this amount $3,000,000 are to be de- 
voted to the meat inspection, the dis- 
cussion of which has occupied so much 
of the time of congress and of the public 
press during the past few weeks; 
Weather Bureau, $1,439,240; Bureau of 
Plant Industry, $1,024,740; Forest 
Service, $1,017,500; Agricultural Ex- 
periment Stations, including the De- 
partment Office of Experiment Stations, 
$974,860; Bureau of Entomology, $262,- 
100; Division of Publications, $248,- 
520; Bureau of Soils, $221,460; Bureau 
of Statistics, $210,560; Bureau of 
Chemistry, $174,180; Office of Public 
Ptoads, $70,000; Bureau of Biological 
Survey, $52,000; Library, $25,880. 
Large as is the annual appropriation 



for the Department of Agriculture, it is 
only one six-hundredth of the value of 
the agricultural products of the coun- 
try, and there is every reason to sup- 
pose that it is a good investment. 
The figures of our agricultural wealth 
as given in the last report of the 
Secretary of Agriculture are so vast 
as to be difficult to grasp. Thus the 
corn crop alone is valued at $1,210,- 
000,000. Hay, cotton, wheat, butter 
and milk and poultry and eggs each 
produced products worth over $500,000,- 
000. Farm products of the value of 
$827,000,000 were exported. Thanks 
to such exports the balance of trade 
in favor of this country in the course 
of the past sixteen years amounts to 
over $5,000,000,000. The farms of the 
United States are said to have in- 
creased in value to the amount of 
$0,131,000,000 in the course of the 
past five years. 

The Secretary of Agriculture awards 
mainly to the department credit for the 
great advances in the prosperity of the , 
farmer in recent years. In concluding 
his report he says: ''The gratifying- 
evidences of well-being in our farming 
community, the extraordinary progress l 
made in the past few years, and the 
rapidly enlarging recognition of the 
true position of the farming industry 
in the economic life of this country are 
mainly the result of this continued and 
combined effort on the part of these 
agencies to add to the sum of the farm- 
er's knowledge, and must be regarded 
as the triumph of intelligence in the 
application of scientific knowledge to 
the tillage of the soil. This is so 
obviously true that it would seem 
superfluous to urge the generous main- 
tenance of the department in its grand 
work. Great as has been the work 
undertaken and accomplished, gratify- 
ing as have been the results, as shown 
in the first few pages of this report, 
be it remembered that we are still at 
the threshold of agricultural develop- 
ment, and that the educational work 
which has led to such grand results has 
only been extended as yet to a portion 

of our agricultural population. There 
if not an intelligent, patriotic citizen 
in the Union who will not say with his 
whole heart, ' Let the good work go 



Mr. Alfred Beit, who accumulated 
a vast fortune in South Africa and died 
on July 10, has by his will given large 
sums for public purposes. The most 
notable bequest is $0,000,000 to his 
partners to constitute a fund, the in- 
come of which is to be devoted to the 
construction, equipment or furtherance 
of any such methods of communication 
or transportation in Rhodesia, Portu- 
guese Southeast Africa or the German 
possessions, and any parts of Africa 
that may be traversed by the Cape-to- 
Cairo Railway. The trustees are to 
have absolute discretion, and if two 
thirds decide that the fund is no longer 
required for furthering the work of 
communication or transportation, they 
can apply the proceeds to educational, 
charitable or other public purposes in 

One million dollars is left to the 
University of Johannesburg to build 
and equip buildings on the land pre- 
viously given by Mr. Beit; one million 
dollars for educational or charitable 
purposes in Rhodesia and other terri- 
tories within the field of the British 
South Africa Company; $125,000 to 
the Rhodes University, Grahamstown, 
Cape Colony; $100,000 for educational 
or charitable purposes in the Trans- 
vaal, and $75,000 for similar purposes 
in Kimberley and in Cape Colony. To 
the College of Technology, London Uni- 
versity, the sum of $250,000 and 1,000 
shares in the DeBeers Company are 
bequeathed, and to the research fund 
of London University $125,000. Two 
hundred thousand dollars is to be dis- 
tributed equally in London and Ham- 
burg for educational or charitable pur- 
poses. To King's Hospital and Guy's 
Hospital, London, the sum of $100,000 
each is given. Mr. Beit's property 



near Hamburg, which was his birth- 
place, is left to that city, and his art 
collections are left to the galleries in 
London, Berlin and Hamburg. 


We regret to record the death of 
Dr. Samuel Lewis Penfield, professor 
of mineralogy at the Sheffield Scientific 
School of Yale University, and of Dr. 
Paul Drude, professor of physics in 
the University of Berlin. 

Sir David Gill, H. M. astronomer 
at the Cape of Good Hope, has been 
elected to succeed Dr. E. Bay Lan- 
kester, director of the British Museum 
of Natural History, as president of 
the British Association for the Ad- 
vancement of Science. The associa- 
tion Avill meet next year at Leicester, 
beginning on July 31. The meeting 
the following year will be in Dublin, 
and in 1009 the association will for the 
third time visit Canada and meet in 

A kxighthood has been conferred 
on Dr. W. H. Perkin, F.B.S., the jubilee 
of whose discovery of the aniline dye 
mauve has recently been celebrated. — 
Professor Seubert, hitherto the German 
member of the international committee 
■on atomic weights, has resigned, and 

Professor Ostwald has been appointed 
his successor. The committee now 
consists of F. W. Clarke, United States, 
chairman; T. E. Thorpe, Great Britain; 
H. Moissan, France, and W. Ostwald, 
Germany. — Mrs. W. P. Fleming, cura- 
tor of astronomical photographs in the 
Harvard College Observatory, has been 
elected an honorary member of the 
Royal Astronomical Society. Mrs. 
Fleming has also been appointed hon- 
orary fellow in the department of as- 
tronomy in YYellesley College. 

The General Education Board, en- 
dowed by Mr. John D. Rockefeller with 
.$10,000,000, has made appropriations 
to nine institutions on condition that 
three times the sum be appropriated 
from other sources. The appropria- 
tions, which amount to $312,500, are 
as follows : Coe College, Cedar Rapids, 
Ja., $50,000; Washburn College, Topeka, 
Kan., $25,000; Tulane University, New 
Orleans, $75,000; Wofford College, 
Spartanburg, S. C, $25,000; Furman 
University, Greenville, S. G, $25,000; 
Wake Forest College, Wake Forest, N. 
C, $37,500; Howard College, Birming- 
ham, Ala., $25,000; Southwestern Uni- 
versity, Jackson, Tenn., $25,000, and 
Mississippi College. Clinton, Miss., 







r | ^HERE are two sets of disturbances which shake the crust of the 
-*■- earth and therefore go by the name of earthquakes. Eruptive 
earthquakes are explosions, usually of steam, about a volcano. Tectonic 
earthquakes are breaks in the overloaded or overstrained crust of the 
earth, and, for the most part, have nothing to do with the steam vents 
we call volcanoes. To the last class most earthquakes belong, certainly 
almost all that have been felt within the tmited States. 

Again, under the name of earthquake we include two very different 
sets of phenomena, the one the rock-rift or fault, which is the disturb- 
ance itself, the other the spreading or interfering waves set in motion 
by the parting, shearing and grinding of the sundered walls of rocks in 
the earthquake fault. It is the jarring waves extending in widening 
and interfering circles which do the mischief to man and his affairs. 
It is the rift of rock which sends these waves forth on their blind 
mission of confusion or destruction. 

In every tectonic earthquake there is somewhere a fault or rift of 
rock, with some sort of displacement, permanent or temporary, of the 
relations of the two sides. In extreme cases, this break extends for 
miles in a straight line, breaking the surface soil and passing down- 
ward to a depth which can be only guessed at, five or ten miles perhaps, 
perhaps as far down as the crust is rigid. There are undoubtedly 
destructive earthquakes in which the soil is not broken over the rift of 
rock, but as a rule, in violent disturbances, the crack comes to the sur- 
face, breaking through the overlying soil. In all severe earthquakes 
there are, moreover, breaks or fissures in the earth having no connection 
with the fault itself. These are slumps or landslides, and geologically 





they signify but little. They mean simply that loose soil has been 
shaken down. They do not go down into the underlying rock. From 
the true earthquake crack they may usually be known at once, because 
their course is determined by the topography. They are not straight. 
The true earthquake rift moves on in straight lines, broadly speaking, 
careless of topography. But topography is not careless of the earth- 
quake rift. On either side of it, for perhaps hundreds of feet, the 




Relief Map ok California. 

rocks are crushed to flinders by the impact and grinding of the opposed 
Avails. An old fault is therefore marked by an excess of erosion. A 
valley or saddle marks its general course. Streams choose it for their 
basins, and when it crosses a mountain the softened rock yields to form 
a saddle or other form of depression. For these reasons, an earth- 
quake fault is often marked in California by successions of dairies and 
of reservoirs. The valleys thus formed are fertile and well watered. 
For the most part, in much-faulted regions, such as form the rim of 



Earthquake Rift, as it comes up from the sea at Point Arena. Mendocino County. 

the Pacific, each earthquake rift follows the line of an old fault, and 
the original break goes back to the mountain-making periods of Ter- 
tiary times. The California earthquake of 1906 follows the axis of an 
ancient break, the ' Portola-Tomales fault/ or ' San Andreas fault,' 
first studied, so far as I know, by Dr. John C. Branner in 1892. In 
this fault hundreds of thousands of earthquakes, large and small, have 

Fissure and Landslip, San Jacinto Valley, 1897. 



preceded the recent one. In it the aggregate displacement horizon- 
tally has been very great, and the aggregate vertical displacement as 
shown by the rock strata on either side of it exceeds half a mile. 

It is the purpose of this article to trace the earthquake rift of April 
18, 1906, across the map of California. The accompanying photo- 
graph of a relief map by Dr. N~oah Fields Drake will show the topog- 
raphy of the state. In California there are multitudes of valleys of 
various kinds. Those formed by water and ice surface erosion are 
variously curved and ramified. Such are the mountain canons of the 
west flanks of the Sierras. Those valleys formed or marked by earth- 
quake cracks have almost invariably straight axes. These extend in 
general toward the north-northwest, more or less distinctly parallel 
with each other, and often intersected by cross-faults. 

Examples of faulted valleys are the great valley of the Sacramento 
and San Joaquin, the Santa Clara Valley, San Francisco Bay, with the 
Valley of Santa Eosa, Eel Eiver Valley, the Santa Catalina Channel, 
Owens Eiver, the San Jacinto Valley and many others. A cross-fault 
extends from Monterey Bay up the valley of the Pajaro Eiver. In 
some of these faults earthquakes have taken place in historic times, in 
others no break has been noted save that recorded in the rocks. Dr. 
Branner has compared a fault to a break in a bone. It represents a 
weak place which will give in a time of strain. On the other hand, 
if not freshly broken, it will tend with time to heal. A broken bone 

Alder Creek Bridge, Mendocino County. The earthquake rift is near the 

middle of the picture. 


2 93 

Tojiales, Marin County. The North Shore Railroad and the earthquake rift. 

will be naturally renewed. A faulted rock bed will be cemented in 
the course of ages of pressure and of cementation. 

The most interesting of these breaks in California is that recorded 
as the Portola-Tomales fault. Its course can be plainly traced on the 
relief map. It enters the shore near the mouth of Alder Creek and 
near the low headland called Point Arena, in Mendocino County on the 
north, and runs to Chittenden, on the Pajaro River, in Monterey 
County, on the south. The line is almost perfectly straight, and its 
course and direction can be determined by placing a ruler on the map, 
using the line of Tomales Bay as an axis. This long, narrow, straight 
inlet is a resultant of past earthquakes, probably beginning in Tertiary 
times. It is bounded on the west by mountains which have their origin 
in some ancient upward thrust of the walls on the west side of the 
ancient fault. 

On the eighteenth of April the trouble began in the sea. Just 
where, we may find out later. We know that the center is in the sea, 
because where the rift enters the land it was broader and its effects 
more violent than at any other point along its extent. As the rift can 
be traced for 192 miles across the land to the southward from Point 
Arena, it is safe to say that it goes as far to the northward under the 
sea. A steamer crossing it the moment of the earthquake, off Men- 
docino, ninety miles to the northward of Point Arena, bears witness 
to this fact. The captain thought that he had struck a raft of logs, 
so fierce and hard were the shocks of the waves in the water.. The 
movements were short, quick and violent, not forming a tidal wave, 
but a strange choppy sea. For the time being all rollers and surf were 
broken up. Off the bold headland of Cape Mendocino is a deep sub- 

2 9 4 


marine valley, to the west of which is a high mountain which does not 
rise to the surface of the ocean. In the channel between the cape and 
the submerged mountain the earthquake rift may be supposed to run. 
In this channel numerous earthquake shocks have been recorded by 
different passing vessels. If not itself a center of disturbance, it 
records the line along which great disturbances have frequently passed. 

The rift struck the land at the mouth of Alder Creek, above Point 
Arena. It crept over the hill as a deep furrow in the black, sticky 
adobe, veering a little to left or right according to the resistance of the 
soil, but always keeping in a straight line in its general direction. It 
may be imagined as a sort of devouring dragon, leaving its trail on the 
hills and destroying the works of man wherever it passes. It is hard 
in following its course, not to think of it as endowed with a sort of 
wicked life. Its movement is properly from north to south, but the 
openyig of the great fault seems to have been really instantaneous. It 
took place at 5 :13 a.m. and the waves lasted forty-seven seconds. It 
may be noted in passing that the complication of the waves at any one 
point was mainly due to the great length of the rift. A point imme- 
diately near the crack felt mainly the first great shock, its wave and 
the return wave. A point farther away felt the wave and its return 
jolt, followed at once by waves from farther to the north and farther 
to the south, these waves becoming more and more opposed to one an- 
other. The waves would then augment, neutralize, override and other- 
wise modify one another, the final result being the violent twisting 
motion, the most remarkable trait of the latter portion of the earth- 
quake in question. 

Coming over the first ridge, from the sea, the rift passed under the 
long bridge over Alder Creek. The land on the west side of the bridge 

Point Arena. Picket fence was in one continuous line. Photograph shows short section 
put in to fill up offset by land on the west side. 


2 95 

Land Slip at Sobkante. 

was jerked sixteen feel to the north; or that on the east sixteen feet to 
the south — only a careful re-snrvey of the region can tell us which. 
Or it may be that both sides went to the northward, but the west side 
pulled away, distancing the other by sixteen feet. In any case, the 
bridge was torn to splinters, and the crack went on, always the west 
side some sixteen and a half feet to the northward, though the sticky 
soil tends to lag hack, and not every place shows the maximum of sheer- 
ing or horizontal displacement. Passing under a barn, the rift tore it 
to splinters. The spreading wave displaced or destroyed most of the 

Land Slip at Sobp.ante 



Marshall Hotel, thrown into Tomales 

houses in the villages of Manchester and Point Arena, wrecking the 
magnificent lighthouse of solid masonry on the Point itself. In low 
ground the rift formed successions of little ponds. On hillsides the 

lower side of the crack fell away 
like a drivelling lower lip, leaving 
an open chasm, ten to twenty feet 
in apparent depth. On level hard 
ground the soil like the rock below 
closed with a snap a little tighter 
than it was before. Line fences 
were broken and sheered from six- 
teen to twenty feet. Lines of trees 
met with similar readjustments. 
In Mendocino County the horizon- 
tal displacement is about sixteen 
feet. In Marin County, where 
exactly measured, it is sixteen 
feet and seven inches. Southward it becomes less. In San Mateo 
County it is six to eight feet, and at the Pajaro Bridge at Chittenden, 
where the open fault ceases, the western pier was moved northward 
about eighteen inches. This shifting of position, evident along the 
line of the crack, seems to have 
included the whole region, moun- 
tains and valleys, through which 
the crack passes. Either the re- 
gion to the westward with the 
Santa Cruz Mountains and the 
mountains called Sobrante de la 
Punta de los Reves have been 
stretched out toward the north- 
ward or else the region on the 
east side, including most of Cali- 
fornia, has been correspondingly 
humped up. It is impossible at 
present to say which is the fact, 
perhaps both. The vertical dis- 
placement is small. To the 
north of San Francisco the west 
side has been raised two or three 
feet. To the southward the 
slight relative change in eleva- 
tion — two or three feet — is in favor of the east side. 

The rift left the pastures of Point Arena, passing up Gualala 
River, always in a straight line, making havoc among the redwood 

Earthquake Crack in Country Road from 
Olema to Point Reyes. 



Earthquake Rift, Freeman's Ranch, near Tomales Bay. 

trees, thence into the sea, where it runs close along the coast, past 
Fort Boss, throwing down everything movable in this and other towns. 
It then crosses Bodega Head and again falls into the sea, where it 
passes up the axis of Tomales Bay. At the head of the bay its course 
through the tules or bulrushes looks like a swath through a grain 

Earthquake Rift, Freeman's Ranch. 


field. Through this region ( Marin County) the shock was very violent, 
and numerous cracks parallel with the main crack in the bay extended 
along the shores. In the town of Tomales, much and varied mischief 
was done. The parallel cracks toyed with miles of the Xorth Shore 
Railroad between Tomales and Point Reyes. At Marshall the hotel was 
thrown bodily — and upright — into the bay, the boarders unharmed; 
and at aristocratic Inverness, on Tomales Bay, three summer cottages 
suffered the same fate. A fisherman in the bay reports that the waters 
receded, leaving- his boat in the mud. Afterwards they came back in 
a 'great wave, which looked a hundred feet high, but which was prob- 
ably not more than ten.' 

At Point Reyes Station at the head of Tomales Bay the 5:15 train 
for San Francisco was just ready. The conductor had just swung on 
when the train gave a great lurch to the east, followed by another to 
the west, which threw the whole train on its side. The astonished 
conductor dropped off as it went over, and at sight of the falling 
chimneys and breaking windows of the station, he understood that it 
was the Temblor. The fireman turned to jump from the engine to the 
west when the return shock came. He then leaped to the east and 
borrowing a kodak he took the picture of the train here presented. 

Paper Mill Creek runs past the same village, a considerable stream, 
noteworthy lately from the successful stocking with king salmon. 
The two banks of the stream were forced toward each other so that the 
length of the bridge was shortened by about six feet and the bridge 
was correspondingly humped at its north end, an arch about six feet 
high being forced up. 

From Point Reyes Station (at the base of the peninsula also called 
Point Reyes) the earthquake rift passed along the Inverness Road to 
Olema, where all the houses not standing on rock foundation were 
thrown from three to six feet to the westward, toward the crack itself. 

Skinner's Ranch is a large dairy near Olema. The house stands 
near the road, a dairy house some thirty feet to the south of it, and a 
large barn with cowyard just behind that. A row of large cypress 
trees stood just before the house on the roadside, between them and 
the house a little rose garden, to the south of these, opposite and partly 
behind the dairy, a group or row of large eucalyptus trees. 

The earthquake rift passed directly in front of the house, between 
the buildings and the road. All that stood to the westward of the 
crack was violently jerked to the north a distance of sixteen feet seven 
inches, or it may he that the east side moved an equal distance to the 
smith. If Mr. Skinner had chanced to look at the right instant he 
would have seen the whole row of cypress trees file past his window 
to take their station in front of the dairy, taking the rose garden with 
them. A few raspberry bushes came from farther north to take, 



partly, the place of the roses. The eucalyptus trees in front of the 
dairy moved on to a position opposite the barn, and one detached from 
the others and to the westward of the crack was left near the head of 
the line instead of at its foot. The crack passes obliquely under the 
barn, entering it at the northwest corner and leaving it at the middle 
of its posterior or southwest side. The barn remained intact, thanks 
to its weak foundation, Tor the east side pulled loose from the ground, 
and the barn went northward with the west side. Sixteen and one 
half feet of its former foundation at the southeastern corner is exposed. 
A driveway under the barn is divided in the middle. Yon pass in on 
the east side, the western half is sixteen and one half feet to the north 


of the entrance and completely blocked in the middle. Under each of 
the east windows of the barn stood a pile of manure. Each pile is 
intact, sixteen and one half feet south of the window to which it be- 
longs. The people at the ranch were milking at the time of the shock. 
Each man and cow was thrown to the ground and it took two hours to 
get the frightened cattle hack into the "corral/ The stone steps to 
the dairy, on the east side of the crack, now stand sixteen feet seven 
inches to the southward of the door to which they led. About Skin- 
ner's, line fences and water pipes crossing the fault were hroken, a 
break of sixteen and one half feet being Left in each case, the west side 
of the fault in all cases more or less overriding the other. "In the 
matter of line fences interesting legal problems are raised. Were the 



%w, . "<%*>•■' 

Earthquake Rift. Olema. 

farms on the west stretched sixteen and one half feet or those on the 
east side crowded together to the same amount ? If either, who stands 
the loss and what store can be set on ancient landmarks? 

Next to the Skinner Ranch is the Shatter Ranch. Here the houses 
and barns are on the east side of the crack, but the transposition of 

Skinner's Ranch, Olema. 


roads, trees and fences was the same in kind. The rift passed through 
the corral, and one of the astonished cows dropped into it, soon falling 
deeply till only rump and tail were visible. The hysterical dogs barked 
at her, the water came into the rift, and the dairymen, doubtless with 
a sense of the impotence to struggle against fate, buried her in the 
grave from which they could not rescue her. 

Crossing the valley the rift split a small hill, throwing down four 
large spruce trees, all of which fell at right angles to the crack. A 
very large oak tree standing on level ground was shoved violently, still 
standing, sixteen and one half feet to the southward into the base of 
the riven hill, or perhaps the western half of the hill was shoved vio- 
lently about the tree. Dr. G. K. Gilbert seems to think it probable 
that both sides partook in the motion. 

On through the valley of Olema went the rift, past more dairies, 
but leaving their buildings altogether to the east. Crossing the road 
above Bolinas, the two sides of the highway are rudely separated. 
Reaching Bolinas Bay, the rift is visible in the mud at low tide, and 
good authority reports the sea-bottom to the westward, along Duxbury 
Beef, to be raised two or three feet. The gatherers of abalone shells 
venture out into regions of sea-bottom formerly inaccessible at the 
lowest tides. On the east side of Bolinas Bay the clams are hopelessly 
buried. At Bolinas the pretty Flagstaff Inn was thrown into the sea 
and completely wrecked. The crack again enters the sea, passing 
across the entrance to the Golden Gate five or six miles west of the 
center of San Francisco, and giving to that breezy and joyous town a 
jolt which will live in history, but from which the fine-spirited people 
will recover long before the world at large will clearly understand 
what their experiences have really been. The rift reached the shore 
again at Mussel Bock to the southwest of San Francisco. Here the 
cliff was hurled down, a gradual incline was made a steep one and four 
thousand feet of newly graded railroad was thrown into the sea. It 
passed up the narrow valley of San Andreas, not harming the reservoir, 
but wrecking all the water mains entering San Francisco from the great 
reservoirs, Crystal Springs, San Andreas and Pilarcitos. The dam of 
the Crystal Springs reservoir, across the fault line, was so well built 
that the visible crack passed around it along the bank by its side, re- 
turning afterwards to its former direction. The bleak and boulder- 
strewn saddle called Canada del Raymundo, scarred by previous earth- 
quakes, was then passed, and beyond it the narrow, fertile valley, 
Portola, named for the first governor of California, the discoverer of 
San Francisco Bay. The crack runs along the base of the Sierra 
Morena, four to five miles west of Stanford University, to the head 
of Portola reservoir; then ascends in a canon to a saddle on the 
summit, connecting two parallel ranges, Monte Bello to the east and 



Castle Bock to the west. Down from the saddle between these runs 

Stevens Creek (Arroyo de San Jose de Cupertino) and down this 

creek went the earthquake crack, tearing up the road behind it. and 

throwing down landslides from every steep slope. Stevens Creek is 

made up from the union of two streams which meet from opposite 

directions. The crack descends the one and remounts impartially in 

the valley of the other. Both streams follow old earthquake tracks. 

Over another saddle the crack goes to Saratoga Creek. Across it and 

over another saddle it follows Campbell Creek, draining its reservoir. 

Thence it crosses obliquely the valley of Los Gatos Creek, over the hills 

of which Bret Harte wrote — 

The ridges 'round Los Gatos Creek 
Arched their spines in a feline fashion, 

in the earthquake of 1818. Into this creek, from the Feely ranch. 

Earthquake Rift, Morrill's Ranch, Skylands, Santa Cruz County. 

some ten acres of land was thrown in a great landslide. At the head 
of the creek is the long tunnel which cuts under the saddle, from 
Wright's to Laurel. This tunnel has been the source of endless 
trouble since it was made, and for the reason that the rock in the 
mountain through which it passes is made up of minute chips of rock. 
No wonder, for the earthquake crack follows the mountain ridge, which 
is here narrow and low. It cuts tunnel and railroad track at right 
angles, and every earthquake disturbance is sure to make matters worse. 
Already forty feet of crushed rock has fallen from above what was the 



Earthquake Rift. Morrill's Orchard, Santa Cruz county. 

roof of the tunnel. On the hill above the tunnel is Morrill's fruit 
ranch. The earthquake ripped its way through the orchards, shifting 
the rows of trees six to eight feet and treating roads and fences in the 
same reckless fashion. The large hospitable Morrill farmhouse stood 
partlv over the track and was split in two and utterly ruined. Farther 
on at Skvlands, on the ridge of the 
mountains, Fern Gulch was rilled 
with wreckage; redwood trees four 
and five feet through, two or three 
hundred years old, were snapped off 
like whip-lashes. The rift crossed 
Hinckley's Gulch at right angles. 
This is a narrow gorge about a 
hundred feet dee}), in which stood 
the large Loma Prieta sawmill. 
The erorge was filled by landslips 
thrown from both sides. The mill 
was completely buried, with nine 
mill hands, and a redwood tree over 
a hundred feet high was set erect 
and unhurt over the place where the 
mill stood. The bodies of six men 
were recovered. One of these, the 
foreman, was found erect, smoth- 
ered in mud, hut standing with ex- 
tended arms and limbs in the act of running from the mill. With him. 
equally erect and in the act of running, was the body of a Siberian 
mastiff. Their position marked the meeting point of the two walls of 

Inverness Road, near Olema, Marin 




Wreck of Loma Prieta Saw Mill, Hinckley's Gulch, Santa Cruz County. 

the canon. The crack went on across the hills, always in the same 
direction, southeast by south, till it came to the Chittenden Eanch in 
the Pajaro Valley. Here it tore off the hillside, destroying the high- 
way at its base; then descended to the Pajaro Eiver, shifting a pier of 
its railroad bridge about eighteen inches to the northwest. Here it 
met the Pajaro cross-fault. But here the straight line from Point 
Arena came to an end. A series of short breaks creeps off to the 
southeast, ending two miles southwest of San Juan, the last act being 
the final, almost complete, wreck of the beautiful and venerable Mission 
of San Juan Bautista. 

That the oblique crack from Chittenden, famous as an ' earthquake 
ranch ' of earlier times, to San Juan, is part of the original rift, is not 

Site of Loma Prieta Saw Mill, covered to the depth of 125 feet. 


clear. It may be that this is part of the Pajaro cross-fault. The 
original Portola-Tomales fault, if continued in a straight line from 
Chittenden, would pass along the flanks or the foot of the Gavilan 
mountains to Priest Valley, fifty miles to the south-southeast. Beyond 
Priest Valley is a well-marked earthquake crack, which opened in the 
earthquake of 1868, and in earlier times. This extends through desert 
land in the same direction, its course being the axis of the Cholame 
Valley and the uninhabited desert sink known as Carisa Plain. This 
old rift extends at least one hundred and forty miles beyond Chittenden 
to Monte Pinos in the north edge of Ventura County. This whole 
fault from Point Arena to Monte Pinos is clearly a single break, but 
only 192 miles of a possible 330 were opened in the earthquake of 1906. 

But while the surface break seemed to end at Chittenden, it seems 
probable that the rift in the rocks below extended much farther. At 
Priest Valley, fifty miles along this line, the shock was violent, while 
at localities ten miles or more to the east and west of the line, as at 
Lone Oak or the Pinnacles, it was very little felt. In Priest Valley 
chimneys and shelving were thrown down, buildings badly shaken and 
the contents of a country store impartially scattered over the floor, the 
shock being apparently about as severe as in San Francisco. 

With the opening of the great rift it is conceivable that faults in 
the neighborhood should also be affected. There is evidence (most of 
which the writer has not examined) of the opening of a parallel fault 
behind Cape Mendocino. This seems to have passed across the base 
of the cape, cutting across the smaller headland called Point Delgada, 
losing itself in the Sonoma Valley to the southwest of Santa Eosa. 
There are distinct traces of it across Burbank's famous orchard at 
Sebastopol. Here on a slope lines of fruit trees were shifted, a well 
was moved bodily three or four feet, and a crack about one fourth mile 
long extended across a neighboring field, its direction parallel with 
that of the Tomales rift. Other similar cracks open at intervals on the 
road toward Point Delgada. The extreme violence of the shock in 
Santa Eosa perhaps indicates its nearness to this second rift, as the 
Tomales rift caused little damage in other towns equally far away. 
Dr. G. K. Gilbert takes a somewhat different view of this case. He 
seems to regard this Point Delgada crack as part of the great Tomales- 
Portola rift. In his map (Popular Science Monthly, August) Dr. 
Gilbert marks the great rift as swinging eastward in a curve across 
Point Delgada and to the eastward of Cape Mendocino between that 
headland and Humboldt Bay. It seems to the present writer far more 
probable that the Point Delgada fault is a separate rift, parallel with 
the main rift, and similar to it, except that it is a little less violent. 
There is some evidence that a fault line at the foot of San Francisco 

VOL. LXIX. — 20. 


Bay opened for a short distance to the southward of Milpitas. But 
the soft soil in that region was filled with slumps and cracks due to 
the shaking down of loose deposits, and one could not be sure that the 
actual fault in the rocks was really disturbed. The same remark ap- 
plies to the breaks at San Bruno about ten miles south of San Fran- 
cisco in marsh deposits over the recognized San Bruno-Lake Merced 
fault. It is readily conceivable that a great disturbance like the one 
in the main fault might be accompanied by similar breaks in parallel 
or associated faults. 

The chief center of disturbance in the earthquake of 1906 would 
seem to be in the sea. The evidence for this lies in the fact that at 
the point where the fault enters the land near Point Arena the dis- 
placement is greater than anywhere else. As the land fault is 
traceable for nearly two hundred miles to the southward, it is rea- 
sonable to suppose that the sea-bottom is broken for at least an equal 
distance to the northward. The point of earthquake disturbance oft 
Cape Mendocino has been frequently noticed in the past, and this is 
in a right line with the rest of the fault. It is possible that the center 
of trouble is located in the valley between Cape Mendocino and the 
off -lying submarine mountain. 

There is also another possibilit}', very remote perhaps, but still 
worth considering, that is, the connection between this rift and the 
^disturbances about the islands of St. John Bogoslof, in Bering Sea. 
In the year 1768, to the north of the island of Umnak and about 
:seventy miles northwest of Unalaska, a large island arose from the sea, 
In an earthquake disturbance. This island, Old Bogoslof, recorded by 
^Captain Cook, was, as the present writer recalls it, about two miles 
long and fifteen hundred feet in height. In 1796, in another seismic 
disturbance, an addition was made to this island. In 1883 (October 
28) a second island, of about the same size, arose, also from the sea, 
to the northward of the first. A photograph in my possession, taken 
in 1892 by Mr. N. B. Miller, of the steamer Albatross, shows this 
island, still hot and steaming. In 1896, when I visited it, it was 
apparently cold. These islands are supposably parts of the sea- 
bottom with a backing of melted rock, forced to the surface by pres- 
sure. On October 30, 1883, a severe earthquake was reported off 
Cape Mendocino. If on a globe one extends the axis of the Portola- 
Tomales-San Andreas fault as far as Alaska, it would not fall far 
from these Bogoslof Islands. This fact suggested to the writer that 
possibly the earthquake of 1906 meant the birth of another Bogoslof. 
And it appears that this indeed was the case. The scanty reports 
which have reached us from the visit of the Albatross in May tell us 
that a third Bogoslof ' five times as large as either of the others ' and 
between them, has arisen, and according to Captain Dirks, who re- 


ported the matter at Unalaska, the water was so hot that a vessel could 
not approach within five miles of the island. It is conceivable that' 
the great earthquake rift has its center in the area of weakened sea- 
bottom occupied by the Bogoslofs. It is possible, even probable, that 
the coincidence of time does not show any real connection between 
Bogoslof and the earthquake of 1906. Against the connection may be 
urged the great distance, the great depth of most of the intervening 
sea, and the alleged facts that the seismograph at Sitka showed a shock 
from the south, while that at Tokyo indicated waves from the east. It is 
also stated that no shock was felt at St. Paul, St. George or Unalaska, 
but that a great shock was felt at Unimak. Unimak, like Unalaska, 
lies to the east of the supposed line of the fault. In any case, the birth 
of the third Bogoslof is a matter worthy of thorough investigation, and 
its approximate coincidence in time with the earthquake in California 
is very suggestive. 

The earthquake of 1906 is receiving the most thorough study pos- 
sible, and in such a way as to give promise of important practical 
results. The many previous earthquakes have been recorded, but their 
most essential feature, the location and extent of the causing fissure 
has rarely been indicated. In the records we read again and again 
that ' fissures opened in the ground,' but whether these were rifts in 
the crust or mere slumps of soft ground as a rule has escaped attention. 
The great earthquake of 1868 opened rifts at intervals from Tomales 
Bay to Carisa Plain, and also a fissure on the east side of San Fran- 
cisco Bay, where a straight crack about ten miles long extended 
from Haywards toward the south. One side of this rift showed a 
lateral displacement of about four feet. To this short rift, rather than 
to the Portola-Tomales fissure, the shock in San Francisco in 1868 may 
have been due. The shock in that year was more violent in Oakland 
than in San Francisco and most violent about San Leandro and Hay- 
wards, to the south of Oakland. It is conceivable that the shock of 
1865, having its center in the Portola fault, not far from San Fran- 
cisco, gave that city a degree of immunity in 1868. Other destructive 
earthquakes, as recorded by Holden {' Catalogue of Earthquakes on 
the Pacific Coast, 1769 to 1897') are as follows: 

1800. This earthquake was severe about San Juan Bautista, but whether 
in the Portola fault or the Pajaro fault is not clear. 

1812. This earthquake wrecked the mission of San Juan Capistrano in 
southern California, and was felt along the line of the southern missions. It 
had its center possibly in the Santa Catalina Channel. 

1818. This earthquake injured the mission of Santa Clara; hence it may 
have been along the Portola fault. 

1836. This was said to be similar to the shock of 1868, its center along 
the Portola line; 'great fissures were made in the earth.' 

1839. This was severe from Redwood to San Francisco, 'a great fissure 
opened to Mission San Jose.' It was probably also in the Pajaro fault. 


1857. Sacramento to Fort Tej6n, San Bernardino and Fort Yuma. At 
Fort Tej6n 'a fissure 20 feet wide and 40 miles long: the sides came together 
with such violence as to make a ridge ten feet wide and several feet high.' 
Fissures at San Bernardino. 

1865. This was a smart shock from San Francisco to San Jose\ apparently 
along the line of the Portola fault. The severity of this earthquake, as sug- 
gested above, may have mitigated the local severity of the earthquake of 1868, 
which was in the same rift, but not so severe in this part of it. 

1867. This was violent disturbance about Klamath Lake. A great crack 
said to have opened in Siskiyou County, but the locality is not recorded. 

1868. A very severe earthquake, there being a rift on the east side of the 
bay, as also at Olema, in the Santa Cruz Mountains and for over a hundred 
miles from Cholame through the Carisa Plain. 

1872. Owens River, Inyo County. Fissure at Big Pine 50 to 200 feet wide, 
20 feet deep, extending 50 miles or more. Numerous shocks, very violent, 
these preceded by weaker shocks for a year or more. 

1890. Mono Lake, similar disturbances. 

1892. Vacaville, Winters, etc., extensive local disturbances, the fissures 
not traced, but said to have been along Bio de los Putos on the west side of 
the valley of Solano and Yolo. 

1897. San Jacinto Valley, with a notable fissure, the details not at hand. 

To these might be added the vigorous single jolt of 1893 in the 
San Fernando Mountains, which did little harm because occurring in 
an uninhabited region. The writer was at Saugus at the time, and 
noted the fall of trees and the flinging of rocks down the mountain- 
side. There seems to have been but a single wave, which would have 
done great injury in a populous district. It came from a short fissure 
in Pico Canon. 

Since the earthquake of 1906 many small earthquake waves have 
followed, evidently harmless details in the process of adjustment. 
Looking over Holden's record, we see that many small disturbances 
have taken place along the line of the great fault in question, besides 
the great earthquakes of 1868 and 1906 and the lesser ones of 1800, 
1818, 1836, 1839, 1865 and 1868. 

In 1808 there were twenty-one shocks at the Presidio of San 
Francisco. In 1812 the shocks caused a tidal wave in the bay extend- 
ing up to the plaza. In 1813 or 1815 ' all the buildings ' in Santa 
Clara Valley were shaken down. There were not many and all these 
were of adobe or sun-dried brick. In 1851, a sharp shock in San 
Francisco. In 1852, a shock at San Francisco, with a fissure on the 
San Bruno fault, through which Lake Merced drained into the sea. 

1853. Heavy shocks near Humboldt Bay. 

1856. Severe shocks at San Francisco, the water in the bay sank two feet. 

1863, 1864. A sharp shock at San Juan Bautista. 

1890. Sharp shock along Portola fault. The Pajaro bridge had a pier 
shifted 18 inches, as in 1906. The same crack opened at Chittenden, and the 
main arch in the Mission Church at San Juan Bautisia was injured. A rift 
opened in the soil from Chittenden to San Juan as in 1906. 


It is evident that minor disturbances occur along all the fault lines 
in California and that but one break comparable to that of 1906 has 
taken place within historic times in California. This was the earth- 
quake of 1868. This was far less violent than that of 1906, along 
the San Francisco peninsula, although extending farther to the south 
than the other. It may be remembered that the population of the 
region is now much greater than in 1868, and in like manner, the possi- 
bilities of mischief on the part of earthquakes has been correspondingly 
increased. The danger from earthquakes itself is relatively a small 
matter, but it should be considered in the building arrangements of 
regions where such disturbances are likely to recur. It is as easy to 
make buildings virtually earthquake-proof as water-proof, unless stand- 
ing directly over the fault itself. In this connection we may close with 
the pertinent words of the engineer, William H. Hall, of San Fran- 
cisco : " The earthquake has put a definition on the word sham, which 
seems positively cruel. It has established a value on the solid founda- 
tion and genuine superstructure which is indeed ennobling." 

It would redound to the moral and spiritual elevation of any com- 
munity to be assured of a smart shock at intervals and of a real 
temblor once in each generation. 





Chapter II. The Measure of Time 

So long as we do not go outside the domain of consciousness, the 
notion of time is relatively clear. Not only do we distinguish without 
difficulty present sensation from the remembrance of past sensations or 
the anticipation of future sensations, but we know perfectly well what 
we mean when we say that, of two conscious phenomena which we 
remember, one was anterior to the other; or that, of two foreseen con- 
scious phenomena, one will be anterior to the other. 

When we say that two conscious facts are simultaneous, we mean 
that they profoundly interpenetrate, so that analysis can not separate 
them without mutilating them. 

The order in which we arrange conscious phenomena does not admit 
of any arbitrariness. It is imposed upon us and of it we can change 

I have only a single observation to add. For an aggregate of sensa- 
tions to have become a remembrance capable of classification in time, 
it must have ceased to be actual, we must have lost the sense of its 
infinite complexity, otherwise it would have remained present. It must, 
so to speak, have crystallized around a center of associations of ideas 
which will be a sort of label. It is only when they thus have lost all 
life that we can classify our memories in time as a botanist arranges 
dried flowers in his herbarium. 

But these labels can only be finite in number. On that score, 
psychologic time should be discontinuous. Whence comes the feeling 
that between any two instants there are others? We arrange our 
recollections in time, but we know that there remain empty compart- 
ments. How could that be, if time were not a form preexistent in 
our mind? How could we know there were empty compartments, if 
these compartments were revealed to us only by their content? 

But that is not all; into this form we wish to put not only the 
phenomena of our own consciousness, but those of which other con- 
sciousnesses are the theater. But more, we wish to put there physical 
facts, these / know not what with which we people space and which no 


consciousness sees directly. This is necessary because without it 
science could not exist. In a word, psychologic time is given to us and 
must needs create scientific and physical time. There the difficulty 
begins, or rather the difficulties, for there are two. 

Think of two consciousnesses, which are like two worlds impene- 
trable one to the other. By what do we strive to put them into the 
same mold, to measure them by the same standard? Is it not as if 
one strove to measure length with a gram or weight with a meter? 
And besides, why do we speak of measuring? We know perhaps that 
some fact is anterior to some other, but not by how much it is anterior. 

Therefore two difficulties: (1) Can we transform psychologic time, 
which is qualitative, into a quantitative time? (2) Can we reduce to 
one and the same measure facts which transpire in different worlds? 


The first difficulty has long been noticed ; it has been the subject of 
long discussions and one may say the question is settled. We have not 
a direct intuition of the equality of two intervals of time. The persons 
who believe they possess this intuition are dupes of an illusion. When 
I say, from noon to one the same time passes as from two to three, what 
meaning has this affirmation ? 

The least reflection shows that by itself it has none at all. It will 
only have that which I choose to give it, by a definition which will 
certainly possess a certain degree of arbitrariness. Psychologists could 
have done without this definition; physicists and astronomers could 
not; let us see how they have managed. 

To measure time they use the pendulum and they suppose by defini- 
tion that all the beats of this pendulum are of equal duration. But 
this is only a first approximation ; the temperature, the resistance of the 
air, the barometric pressure, make the pace of the pendulum vary. If 
we could escape these sources of error, we should obtain a much closer 
approximation, but it would still be only an approximation. New 
causes, hitherto neglected, electric, magnetic or others, would introduce 
minute perturbations. 

In fact, the best chronometers must be corrected from time to 
time, and the corrections are made by the aid of astronomic observa- 
tions; arrangements are made so that the sidereal clock marks the same 
hour when the same star passes the meridian. In other words, it is 
the sidereal day, that is, the duration of the rotation of the earth, which 
is the constant unit of time. It is supposed, by a new definition sub- 
stituted for that based on the beats of the pendulum, that two complete 
rotations of the earth about its axis have the same duration. 

However, the astronomers are still not content with this definition. 
Many of them think that the tides act as a check on our globe, and 


that the rotation of the earth is becoming slower and slower. Thus 
would be explained the apparent acceleration of the motion of the 
moon, which would seem to be going more rapidly than theory permits 
because our watch, which is the earth, is going slow. 


All this is unimportant, one will say; doubtless our instruments of 
measurement are imperfect, but it suffices that we can conceive a per- 
fect instrument. This ideal can not be reached, but it is enough to 
have conceived it and so to have put rigor into the definition of the 
unit of time. 

The trouble is that there is no rigor in the definition. When we 
use the pendulum to measure time, what postulate do we implicitly 
admit? It is that the duration of two identical phenomena is the 
same; or, if you prefer, that the same causes take the same time to 
produce the same effects. 

And at first blush, this is a good definition of the equality of two 
durations. But take care. Is it impossible that experiment may some 
day contradict our postulate? 

Let me explain myself. I suppose that at a certain place in the 
world the phenomenon a happens, causing as consequence at the end 
of a certain time the effect a'. At another place in the world very 
far away from the first, happens the phenomenon /?, which causes as 
consequence the effect /?'. The phenomena a and /3 are simultaneous, 
as are also the effects a and /?'. 

Later, the phenomenon a is reproduced under approximately the 
same conditions as before, and simultaneously the phenomenon /3 is 
also reproduced at a very distant place in the world and almost under 
the same circumstances. The effects a and /3' also take place. Let us 
suppose that the effect a happens perceptibly before the effect /3'. 

If experience made us witness such a sight, our postulate would be 
contradicted. For experience would tell us that the first duration aa 
is equal to the first duration /?£' and that the second duration aa is 
less than the second duration /?/?'. On the other hand, our postulate 
would require that the two durations aa' should be equal to each other, 
as likewise the two durations /?/?'. The equality and the inequality 
deduced from experience would be incompatible with the two equalities 
deduced from the postulate. 

Now can we affirm that the hypotheses I have just made are absurd ? 
They are in no wise contrary to the principle of contradiction. Doubt- 
less they could not happen without the principle of sufficient reason 
seeming violated. But to justify a definition so fundamental I should 
prefer some other guarantee. 



But that is not all. In physical reality one cause does not pro- 
duce a given effect, but a multitude of distinct causes contribute to 
produce it, without our having any means of discriminating the part 
of each of them. 

Physicists seek to make this distinction; but they make it only 
approximately, and, however they progress, they never will make it 
except approximately. It is approximately true that the motion of the 
pendulum is due solely to the earth's attraction; but in all rigor every 
attraction, even of Sirius, acts on the pendulum. 

Under these conditions, it is clear that the causes which have pro- 
duced a certain effect will never be reproduced except approximately. 
Then we should modify our postulate and our definition. Instead 
of saying : ' The same causes take the same time to produce the same 
effects,' we should say : ' Causes almost identical take almost the same 
time to produce almost the same effects.' 

Our definition therefore is no longer anything but approximate. 
Besides, as M. Calinon very justly remarks in a recent memoir: 2 

One of the circumstances of any phenomenon is the velocity of the earth's 
rotation; if this velocity of rotation varies, it constitutes in the reproduction 
of this phenomenon a circumstance which no longer remains the same. But 
to suppose this velocity of rotation constant is to suppose that we know how to 
measure time. 

Our definition is therefore not yet satisfactory; it is certainly not 
that which the astronomers of whom I spoke above implicitly adopt, 
when they affirm that the terrestrial rotation is slowing down. 

What meaning according to them has this affirmation? We can 
only understand it by analyzing the proofs they give of their proposi- 
tion. They say first that the friction of the tides producing heat must 
destroy vis viva. They invoke therefore the principle of vis viva, or of 
the conservation of energy. 

They say next that the secular acceleration of the moon, calculated 
according to Newton's law, would be less than that deduced from 
observations unless the correction relative to the slowing down of the 
terrestrial rotation were made. They invoke therefore Newton's law. 
In other words, they define duration in the following way: time should 
be so defined that Newton's law and that of vis viva may be verified. 
Newton's law is an experimental truth; as such it is only approximate, 
which shows that we still have only a definition by approximation. 

If now it be supposed that another way of measuring time is 
adopted, the experiments on which Newton's law is founded would 
none the less have the same meaning. Only the enunciation of the 
law would be different, because it would be translated into another 

2 'Etude sur les diverges grandeurs,' Paris, Gauthier-Villars, 1897. 


language; it would evidently be much less simple. So that the defini- 
tion implicitly adopted by the astronomers may be summed up thus: 
Time should be so defined that the equations of mechanics may be as 
simple as possible. In other words, there is not one way of measuring 
time more true than another; that which is generally adopted is only 
more convenient. Of two watches, we have no right to say that the one 
goes true, the other wrong; we can only say that it is advantageous to 
conform to the indications of the first. 

The difficulty which has just occupied us has been, as I have said, 
often pointed out; among the most recent works in which it is con- 
sidered, I may mention, besides M. Calinon's little book, the treatise 
on mechanics of M. Andrade. 


The second difficulty has up to the present attracted much less atten- 
tion ; yet it is altogether analogous to the preceding ; and even, logically, 
I should have spoken of it first. 

Two psychological phenomena happen in two different conscious- 
nesses; when I say they are simultaneous, what do I mean? When I 
say that a physical phenomenon, which happens outside of every 
consciousness, is before or after a psychological phenomenon, what do 
I mean? 

In 1572, Tycho Brahe noticed in the heavens a new star. An im- 
mense conflagration had happened in some far distant heavenly body; 
but it had happened long before; at least two hundred years were 
necessary for the light from that star to reach our earth. This con- 
flagration therefore happened before the discovery of America. Well, 
when considering this gigantic phenomenon, which perhaps had no 
witness, since the satellites of that star were perhaps uninhabited, 
I say this phenomenon is anterior to the formation of the visual image 
of the isle of Espanola in the consciousness of Christopher Columbus, 
what do I mean? 

A little reflection is sufficient to understand that all these affirma- 
tions have by themselves no meaning. They can have one only as the 
outcome of a convention. 


We should first ask ourselves how one could have had the idea of 
putting into the same frame so many worlds impenetrable to each 
other. We should like to represent to ourselves the external universe, 
and only by so doing could we feel that we understood it. We know 
we never can attain this representation: our weakness is too great. 
But at least we desire the ability to conceive an infinite intelligence 
for which this representation would be possible, a sort of great con- 


sciousness which should see all, and which should classify all in its 
time, as Ave classify, in our time, the little we see. 

This hypothesis is indeed crude and incomplete, because this su- 
preme intelligence would be only a demigod; infinite in one sense, it 
would be limited in another, since it would have only an imperfect 
recollection of the past; and it could have no other, since otherwise all 
recollections would be equally present to it and for it there would be 
no time. And yet when we speak of time, for all which happens out- 
side of us, do we not unconsciously adopt this hypothesis; do we not 
put ourselves in the place of this imperfect god; and do not even the 
atheists put themselves in the place where god would be if he existed? 

What I have just said shows us, perhaps, why we have tried to put 
all physical phenomena into the same frame. But that can not pass 
for a definition of simultaneity, since this hypothetical intelligence, 
even if it existed, would be for us impenetrable. It is therefore neces- 
sary to seek something else. 


The ordinary definitions which are proper for psychologic time 
would suffice us no better. Two simultaneous psychologic facts are 
so closely bound together that analysis can not separate without muti- 
lating them. Is it the same with two physical facts? Is not my 
present nearer my past of yesterday than the present of Sirius ? 

It has also been said that two facts should be regarded as simul- 
taneous when the order of their succession may be inverted at will. 
It is evident that this definition would not suit two physical facts 
which happen far from one another, and that, in what concerns them, 
we no longer even understand what this reversibility would be ; besides, 
succession itself must first be defined. 


Let us then seek to give an account of what is understood by simul- 
taneity or antecedence, and for this let us analyze some examples. 

I write a letter; it is afterward read by the friend to whom I have 
addressed it. There are two facts which have had for their theater 
two different consciousnesses. In writing this letter I have had the 
visual image of it, and my friend has had in his turn this same visual 
image in reading the letter. Though these two facts happen in im- 
penetrable worlds, I do not hesitate to regard the first as anterior to the 
second, because I believe it is its cause. 

I hear thunder, and I conclude there has been an electric discharge ; 
I do not hesitate to consider the physical phenomenon as anterior to 
the auditory image perceived in my consciousness, because I believe it 
is its cause. 

Behold then the rule we follow, and the only one we can follow : 


when a phenomenon appears to us as the cause of another, we regard 
it as anterior. It is therefore by cause that we define time; but most 
often, when two facts appear to us bound by a constant relation, how 
do we recognize which is the cause and which the effect? We assume 
that the anterior fact, the antecedent, is the cause of the other, of the 
consequent. It is then by time that we define cause. How save our- 
selves from this petitio principii? 

We say now post hoc, ergo propter hoc; now propter hoc, ergo post 
hoc; shall we escape from this vicious circle? 


Let us see, not how we succeed in escaping, for we do not completely 
succeed, but how we try to escape. 

I execute a voluntary act A and I feel afterward a sensation D, 
which I regard as a consequence of the act A; on the other hand, for 
whatever reason, I infer that this consequence is not immediate, but 
that outside my consciousness two facts B and C, which I have not 
witnessed, have happened, and in such a way that B is the effect of A, 
that C is the effect of B, and D of C. 

But why ? If I think I have reason to regard the four facts A, B, 
C, D, as bound to one another by a causal connection, why range them 
in the causal order A B C D, and at the same time in the chronologic 
order A B C D, rather than in any other order ? 

I clearly see that in the act A I have the feeling of having been 
active, while in undergoing the sensation D, I have that of having been 
passive. This is why I regard A as the initial cause and D as the ulti- 
mate effect; this is why I put A at the beginning of the chain and D 
at the end ; but why put B before C rather than C before B ? 

If this question is put, the reply ordinarily is: we know that it is 
B which is the cause of C because we always see B happen before C. 
These two phenomena, when witnessed, happen in a certain order; 
when analogous phenomena happen without witness, there is no reason 
to invert this order. 

Doubtless, but take care; we never know directly the physical phe- 
nomena B and C. What we know are sensations B' and C produced re- 
spectively by B and C. Our consciousness tells us immediately that B' 
precedes C and we suppose that B and C succeed one another in the 
same order. 

This rule appears in fact very natural, and yet we are often led to 
depart from it. We hear the sound of the tbunder only some seconds 
after the electric discharge of the cloud. Of two flashes of lightning, 
the one distant, the other near, can not the first be anterior to the 
second, even though the sound of the second comes to us before that of 
tho first? 



Another difficulty; have we really the right to speak of the cause 
of a phenomenon? If all the parts of the universe are interchained in 
a certain measure, any one phenomenon will not be the effect of a 
single cause, but the resultant of causes infinitely numerous; it is, one 
often says, the consequence of the state of the universe a moment 
before. How enunciate rules applicable to circumstances so complex? 
And yet it is only thus that these rules can be general and rigorous. 

Not to lose ourselves in this infinite complexity let us make a 
simpler hypothesis. Consider three stars, for example, the sun, Jupiter 
and Saturn; but, for greater simplicity, regard them as reduced to 
material points and isolated from the rest of the world. The positions 
and the velocities of three bodies at a given instant suffice to determine 
their positions and velocities at the following instant, and consequently 
at any instant. Their positions at the instant t determine their posi- 
tions at the instant t -f- h as well as their positions at the instant 
t — li. 

Even more; the position of Jupiter at the instant t, together with 
that of Saturn at the instant t -f- a, determines the position of Jupiter 
at any instant and that of Saturn at any instant. 

The aggregate of positions occupied by Jupiter at the instant t -\- e 
and Saturn at the instant t -f- a -j- e is bound to the aggregate of posi- 
tions occupied by Jupiter at the instant t and Saturn at the instant 
t + &> by laws as precise as that of Newton, though more complicated. 
Then why not regard one of these aggregates as the cause of the other, 
which would lead to considering as simultaneous the instant t of 
Jupiter and the instant t -f- a of Saturn ? 

In answer there can only be reasons, very strong, it is true, of 
convenience and simplicity. 


But let us pass to examples less artificial ; to understand the defini- 
tion implicitly supposed by the savants, let us watch them at work and 
look for the rules by which they investigate simultaneity. 

I will take two simple examples, the measurement of the velocity 
of light and the determination of longitude. 

When an astronomer tells me that some stellar phenomenon, which 
his telescope reveals to him at this moment, happened nevertheless 
fifty years ago, I seek his meaning, and to that end I shall ask him 
first how he knows it, that is, how he has measured the velocity of 

He has begun by supposing that light has a constant velocity, and in 
particular that its velocity is the same in all directions. That is a 
postulate without which no measurement of this velocity could be 
attempted. This postulate could never be verified directly by experi- 


ment ; it might be contradicted by it if the results of different measure- 
ments were not concordant. We should think ourselves fortunate that 
this contradiction has not happened and that the slight discordances 
which may happen can be readily explained. 

The postulate, at all events, resembling the principle of sufficient 
reason, has been accepted by everybody; what I wish to emphasize is 
that it furnishes us with a new rule for the investigation of simul- 
taneity', entirely different from that which we have enunciated above. 

This postulate assumed, let us see how the velocity of light has been 
measured. You know that Eoemer used eclipses of the satellites of 
Jupiter, and sought how much the event fell behind its prediction. 
But how is this prediction made? It is by the aid of astronomic laws, 
for instance Newton's law. 

Could not the observed facts be just as well explained if we at- 
tributed to the velocity of light a little different value from that 
adopted, and supposed Newton's law only approximate? Only this 
would lead to replacing Newton's law by another more complicated. 
So for the velocity of light a value is adopted, such that the astronomic 
laws compatible with this value may be as simple as possible. When 
navigators or geographers determine a longitude, they have to solve 
just the problem we are discussing; they must, without being at Paris, 
calculate Paris time. How do they accomplish it? They carry a 
chronometer set for Paris. The qualitative problem of simultaneity 
is made to depend upon the quantitative problem of the measurement 
of time. I need not take up the difficulties relative to this latter 
problem, since above I have emphasized them at length. 

Or else they observe an astronomic phenomenon, such as an 
eclipse of the moon, and they suppose that this phenomenon is per- 
ceived simultaneously from all points of the earth. That is not alto- 
gether true, since the propagation of light is not instantaneous; if 
absolute exactitude were desired, there would be a correction to make 
according to a complicated rule. 

Or else finally they use the telegraph. It is clear first that the recep- 
tion of the signal at Berlin, for instance, is after the sending of this 
same signal from Paris. This is the rule of cause and effect analyzed 
above. But how much after? In general, the duration of the trans- 
mission is neglected and the two events are regarded as simultaneous. 
But, to be rigorous, a little correction would still have to be made by 
a complicated calculation; in practise it is not made, because it would 
be well within the errors of observation; its theoretic necessity is none 
the less from our point of view, which is that of a rigorous definition. 
From this discussion, I wish to emphasize two things: (1) The rules 
applied are exceedingly various. (2) It is difficult to separate the 
qualitative problem of simultaneity from the quantitative problem of 


the measurement of time; no matter whether a chronometer is used, 
or whether account must be taken of a velocity of transmission, as 
that of light, because such a velocity could not be measured without 
measuring a time. 


To conclude : We have not a direct intuition of simultaneity, nor of 
the equality of two durations. If we think we have this intuition, this 
is an illusion. We replace it by the aid of certain rules which we 
apply almost always without taking count of them. 

But what is the nature of these rules? No general rule, no 
rigorous rule; a multitude of little rules applicable to each particular 

These rules are not imposed upon us and we might amuse ourselves 
in inventing others; but they could not be cast aside without greatly 
complicating the enunciation of the laws of physics, mechanics and 

We therefore choose these rules, not because they are true, but be- 
cause they are the most convenient, and we may recapitulate them as 
follows : " The simultaneity of two events, or the order of their succes- 
sion, the equality of two durations, are to be so defined that the enun- 
ciation of the natural laws may be as simple as possible. In other 
words, all these rules, all these definitions are only the fruit of an 
unconscious opportunism." 

(To be continued.) 




By Professor EDWARD O. SISSON 


r I THE student of the history of education marvels at the tenacity 
-*- with which the aims and methods of scholasticism and the middle 
ages maintained their hold upon the universities. The use of Latin 
as exclusive means of communication and the worship of Aristotle as 
source of final authority upon all questions marked the universities 
as medieval long after the world at large had moulted its chrysalis and 
become modern. At the opening of the nineteenth century only traces 
of advancement were perceptible; fortunately that century has seen 
changes nothing short of revolutionary in the ideals and methods of 
the institutions of higher learning. 

It is a commonplace that Francis Bacon was the herald, if not the 
originator, of that scientific method which more than anything else 
has wrought the reform of the university; but the work went on for 
two centuries outside the sacred limits of the universities, and, as we 
have seen, gained access to them only in the third century after 
Bacon's time. And yet we hope to show that he foresaw and described 
accurately the essential changes needed to fit these institutions for 
their true work. 

One naturally thinks first in this connection of the New Atlantis, 
and the ' Salomon's House ' described therein, which was ' the lantern 
of the kingdom — and dedicated to the study of the works and creatures 
of God ' ; and no one can fail to perceive in this fantasy of Bacon's 
imagination striking hints of modern scientific investigation and of 
that organization and cooperation which are so essential a means of 
progress in knowledge. But for our present purpose better material 
is found in a serious discussion of the needs of higher education and 
scientific research in the first chapter of Book II. of the ' Advancement 
of Learning.' Bacon proposes here to set forth the ' direction, or the 
pointing out and delineation of the direct way to the completion of the 
object in view,' that is, of the advancement of knowledge. The lines 
of progress he advocates are six in number; let us examine them 
briefly in order. 

First, " among so many illustrious colleges in Europe, all the 
foundations are engrossed by the professions, none being left for the 
free cultivation of the arts and sciences. . . . There is no collegiate 
oourse so free as to allow those who are inclined to devote themselves 


to history, modern languages, civil policy and general literature; . . ." 
With this compare President Eliot's ' What is a Liberal Education,' 
written in 1884; President Eliot names as subjects entitled to full 
admission into higher culture these five: English literature, French 
and German, history, political economy and natural science. The 
first four are practically identical with Bacon's list; and the last, 
natural science, is abundantly championed by Bacon in discussing what 
he names as the third and sixth defects of the existing system. What 
Bacon, as intellectual seer, prescribed, Eliot, as foremost actor in uni- 
versity reform in America at least, confirms and urges. Moreover, the 
fulfilment of Bacon's word is the more wonderful in that for two 
centuries after he wrote, almost no movement occurred in the dry 
bones of the traditional system, and that within the limits the third 
hundred years the five subjects in question have conquered their right- 
ful place in higher education. 

The second defect which Bacon saw in the institutions of his own 
day is one which will appeal at once to those who even in this better 
age earn their bread by service in the armies of science and learning — 
' the mean salaries apportioned to public lectureships, whether in the 
sciences or the arts.' Even in this matter all must admit that progress 
has been made since Bacon's time; and all will agree that Bacon was 
right in pointing to higher compensation of the scientific laborer as one 
of the indispensable conditions of large and general progress in the 
work. It is safe to say that the economic condition of the individual 
worker in these fields is far better to-day than it was in the sixteenth 
century; and the total sum applied to the advancement of learning, 
and especially to those very branches that Bacon so much advocated, 
is immeasurably vaster than ever before in the history of the world, 
and yearly increasing. 

" The next deficiency we shall notice," says Bacon, " is the want 
of philosophical instruments. ... To study natural philosophy, 
physic and many other sciences to advantage, books are not the only 
essentials — other instruments are required." Bacon goes on to men- 
tion what has already been done in this direction — the use of spheres, 
globes, astrolabes, maps ; and the provision of ' gardens for the growth 
of simples ' and dead bodies for dissection, for schools of medicine. 
But what has been done is entirely inadequate ; ' there will be no inroad 
made into the secrets of nature unless experiments, be they of Vulcan 
or Daedalus (air ships?), furnace, engine or any other kind, are 
allowed for; . . . you must allow the spies and intelligencers of 
nature to bring in their bills, or else you will be ignorant of many 
things worthy to be known.' With what joy would the writer of this 
have beheld the laboratories of a modern university; how he would 

VOL. LXIX. — 21. 


have glowed with enthusiasm over experiment stations and a Carnegie 
Institution ! 

The fourth point is more distinctly educational : ' neglect of proper 
supervision or diligent inquiry into the course of studies, with a view 
to a thorough reformation of such parts as are ill-suited to the age, 
or of unwise institution.' Bacon gives two specimens of faults in 
the existing course of study: first, that scholars are inducted too early 
into logic and rhetoric; and second, that invention and memory are 
not exercised together. These are evidently mentioned rather to indi- 
cate the kind of reforms which Bacon here intends, than for any 
peculiar importance attaching to them. Perhaps nothing is more 
characteristic of modern education than just this ' diligent inquiry 
into the course of study ' which Bacon recommends ; not indeed that 
we may yet count ourselves to have attained to perfection in the matter 
of actual reformation, nor to have yet cast off all that was fit only for 
the ' obscure times ' in which our curricula were first formed. But 
throughout the civilized world those responsible for the training of the 
young — teachers, parents and statesmen — are giving themselves with 
resolute purpose to the discovery and ordering of the best means of 
education, for all ages from infancy to maturity. 

The next defect is ' the little sympathy and correspondence which 
exists between colleges and universities, as well throughout Europe as in 
the same state and kingdom.' Evidently the possession of a common 
academic language did not insure complete academic harmony and 
-cooperation ! One can not doubt that Bacon would have seen many 
fulfilments of this desire of his in modern university life : learned 
^societies, associations of colleges and schools, conferences, philosophical 
; and scientific journals, scientific congresses at international expositions, 
and the like. Perhaps the ceremonies of inducting a president of a 
university into his office would have seemed to him particularly to show 
forth ' a fraternity of learning and illumination, relating to that 
paternity which is attributed to God, who is called the Father of lights.' 
" Lastly," says Bacon, " I may lament that no fit men have been 
engaged to forward those sciences which yet remain in an unfinished 
state." Lastly, indeed, but not least; rather may we believe that this 
forwarding of the unfinished sciences lay nearest of all to the heart 
of the author of the Instauration Magna, a work undertaken, he tells 
us, to ' perform, as it were, a lustrum of the sciences, and to take 
account of what have been prosecuted and what omitted.' None of 
Bacon's admonitions have been more fully heeded by the universities 
most worthy of the name ; indeed it has come to be a mark of a genuine 
university that its teachers should be all ' fit men to forward the un- 
finished sciences ' — in other words, investigators. How vast has been 
the actual progress in the lustrum of the sciences may perhaps best 


be felt by comparing the strange and antiquated terms in the outline 
of Books III. and IV. of the Advancement, where Bacon catalogues 
the sciences, with the list of departments of study in some great uni- 
versity of to-day. The sciences of which Bacon knew have been ad- 
vanced to a place far beyond the highest imaginings of even his great 
mind in that time ; and new regions of knowledge have been opened of 
which he could not dream. Even more significant is the fact that we 
have given up believing in even the possibility of a finished science; 
all are unfinished, and therefore it is the duty of every devotee to labor 
for advance. The universities, after centuries of inertia, have at last 
waked, or rather been somewhat vigorously aroused, to their duty to be 
creators as well as conservators of the store of knowledge. 

Thus when the sixteenth century had barely closed, Bacon pointed 
out these six ways in which higher education and research needed to 
advance: a more liberal curriculum, more generous financial support, 
better and more abundant apparatus for experiment and investigation, 
a rational organization of the course of study, sympathy and coopera- 
tion between all colleges and universities, and the prosecution of the 
' unfinished sciences.' History has wonderfully justified his verdict, 
and we may well pronounce him the prophet of the modern university. 



By Professor EDWIN W. BOWEN 


[~T is a recognized fact that there is a considerable variation in the 
- 1 - English language as spoken by the two great branches of the 
Anglo-Saxon race. The English people differ from the American 
people in the use of our common speech not only in their characteristic 
mode of pronunciation and orthography, but they also differ from us 
in no less striking a manner in the use of certain idioms and house- 
hold phrases, which constitute the small change of our every-day speech. 
This difference is the natural outgrowth of the separation of the two 
peoples by the estranging ocean, which is of necessity a great barrier 
to complete intercourse. To be sure, the fact that the English people 
and the American people have distinct national entities with the re- 
sulting difference, during the last hundred years, of national ideals 
and pursuits, has had the natural and inevitable effect of widening 
the breach between the speech of the two countries. N"o doubt the 
present variation will be accentuated more and more as the years go 
by, and the language of Great Britain and of America, far from 
becoming absolutely identical in pronunciation and idiom with the 
flight of centuries, will go on developing with an ever-increasing 
divergence from the common standard. If this be true — and certainly 
the facts as to the present tendency seem to warrant such a conclusion 
— the final result may be the unique linguistic phenomenon of two 
separate and distinct English tongues, if such a thing be not an im- 

Before pointing out the variations of our American English from 
British English, it may be interesting to note the source of our Amer- 
ican vernacular, and the contributing causes of the chief variations 
from the authoritative standard of the mother country. 

When our Saxon forefathers found their way to the shores of this 
western continent and here established their permanent abode, the 
settlers naturally brought with them the language of their native 
country. This w r as, of course, the noble tongue of Shakespeare and 
Milton. Our British cousins who criticize our English so freely and 
cast reproach upon it as if it were a mere jargon, a barbarous patois, 
evidently lose sight of the fact that it boasts the same high pedigree as 
their own much-vaunted Elizabethan speech. When the English lan- 
guage was first transplanted in American soil, it was identical in 
orthography, orthoepy and idiom with the speech of the mother 


country. But the transplanted tongue, having a new and different 
habitat, began at once to adapt itself, however imperceptibly, to its 
changed environ and new conditions. Nor was the connection with 
the parent stock a sufficiently close and vital bond of union to prevent 
the English speech on American lips from undergoing at least some 
slight modification in the course of time, as a natural consequence of 
the altered conditions in the new world. 

It is a well-established linguistic principle that a language in- 
evitably undergoes a slight change, determined by the varying condi- 
tions, as long as it is spoken. When a tongue ceases to be spoken, then 
and only then does it cease to change and become a dead language, as, 
for instance, Latin and Greek. This fact of the gradual change in a 
living language is demonstrated through the difficulty one experiences 
in understanding the English of Chaucer, or even of Shakespeare, for 
the matter of that, although he is not so far removed from the present 
age. If a living tongue underwent no alteration with the lapse of 
years, then why should not Anglo-Saxon be as readily intelligible to 
us as modern English? 

Furthermore, a language is affected in its development by contact 
with a foreign tongue and by outside influences, such as the climate. 
The first of these reasons is so apparent to all that it hardly deserves 
comment. But not so the second. Yet the influence of climate on a 
living language is very fruitful of change. Keady proof of this is 
furnished in our own country in the soft, musical utterance of the 
south in contrast with the rather shrill and forceful habits of enuncia- 
tion characteristic of the north. In Europe, for example, the vast pre- 
ponderance of the harsh, guttural character of the German tongue 
offers a glaring contrast to the smooth, liquid notes of the pure Tuscan 
speech. This is the reason why Italian appeals so strongly to music 
lovers and to all who have an ear trained to be especially sensitive to 
sound. Now, this difference between German and Italian, as respects 
the musical character of the two languages, is doubtless to be explained 
in large measure as the result of climate conditions extending through 
many long centuries. If by some violent political upheaval the Italians 
were transported to the extreme northern part of Europe, it is alto- 
gether probable that their speech in the course of centuries would lose 
much of its native vocalic development, much of its melody, and become 
harsh and strident, somewhat like the Eussian language. It follows, 
therefore, that the English speech on American soil has undergone 
some slight modification, in consequence of climatic influence. Per- 
haps this explains the variation of the American pronunciation of the 
long o-sound as in ' stone ' and ' bone ' from the British norm. But 
the difference in climate between the two countries is not sufficiently 
marked to produce any very radical departure. 


A striking feature of the English speech on American lips is the 
leveling of the long a-sound heard in such words as ' past/ ' fast/ 
' plant/ ' command/ ' dance/ ' path/ etc. This could hardly be the 
result of climatic influence, however, for it does not appear that the 
climate has had the effect of producing any modification in the pro- 
nunciation of such terms in any part of America. The prevailing pro- 
nunciation of these terms is the same, at the south and at the north 
alike. Such a variation must, therefore, be inherent in the natural 
growth of the English language on American soil. For it must be 
borne in mind that just as the English speech, as any other living or- 
ganism, has been growing and developing during the centuries in 
England, so, likewise, in America it has been growing and developing 
during the last three centuries, but not necessarily in the same manner. 
Those employing the language in Great Britain and in the United States 
are no longer a homogeneous people with the same national ideals and 
destiny. On the contrary, they are two separate and distinct nations 
with different forms of government and with different aims and aspira- 
tions. Add to this the fact that the nations have been estranged by 
political differences which resulted in wars and that they are separated 
by the physical barrier of a vast ocean. In the face of these obstacles 
it is not at all surprising that the English speech has not gone on 
developing pari passu on both sides of the Atlantic. The wonder is 
that the present variations are not really greater and more striking 
than they are. 

Another contributing cause of variation of American English from 
the British norm must not be overlooked, the more especially as it has 
proved a prolific factor. In our new country some conditions of life 
arose which were totally unlike those existing in the old country. 
Such strange conditions called imperatively for the invention of new 
names and thus gave rise to the employment of new phrases and new 
locutions. These had to be coined immediately for the emergency. 
Since the most distinctive traits of the American are initiative and 
wealth of resource, no time was lost in making such additions to the 
English speech as seemed to supply a felt need, and that, too, without 
any special reference to British models and precedents. Hence a large 
class of terms distinctively American and bearing upon their face the 
trade-mark ' made in America ' found their way into the English 
vocabulary on this side of the Atlantic, much to the disgust of the 
British precisians and purists, who proceeded forthwith to put these 
new coinages under the ban and to brand them with the bend sinister 
of ' Americanism.' Of this class are many terms indicating mechan- 
ical inventions and appliances, such as ' elevator ' instead of the British 
' lift/ to mention only a single example of a long catalogue of useful 
things which American genius has given to the world. Here also be- 


long numerous words expressing things associated with modern trans- 
portation and rapid transit, such as ' street-car/ ' railroad/ etc. 

Perhaps it may be well just here to call attention to some of the 
ordinary terms and expressions heard in England which strike an 
American as being quite odd and peculiar. It is to be presumed that 
the good Britons will not be offended if we, using the same license as 
themselves, venture to call such expressions ' Briticisms.' Let it be 
distinctly understood, however, that this is not intended as an oppro- 
brious epithet, but only to signify a word or an idiom which is peculiar 
to Great Britain and not familiar in America. For surely the English 
people have the right to employ whatever terms they may choose both 
in their colloquial and in their written speech. 

If an American in London wishes to use a language that is readily 
understood, when he goes to the ticket office he must call it the booking 
office of the railway station. There he must ask the clerk, or rather 
the ' dark/ for a first single or a second return, instead of a single fare 
(first class) and a round trip (second class). He must then have his 
luggage labeled, not his baggage checked, and, having secured his 
brasses or labels, not his checks, he sees his box, not his trunk, put in 
the proper van and then takes his seat in the carriage, not in the car. 
Before the train starts off, the guards slam the doors of the carriages, 
turning the handles, and at the conductor's whistle the engine-driver 
starts his locomotive-engine. The points all being set for a clear track 
ahead, the train speeds along the metals, passing perhaps a shunt ing- 
engine about the station and a train of goods-vans. 

The variation of British from American usage is not more note- 
worthy in railway parlance than in other circles. If an American 
goes shopping in London, he must call for a packet, not a paper, of 
pins ; a reel, not a spool, of cotton. If he desires to buy a pair of shoes, 
he must call for boots, unless he wishes low quarters or Oxford ties; 
if a pair of overshoes, he must ask for footholds or galoshes; if a soft 
felt hat, he must ask for a squash hat, or if he prefers a Derby, he 
must ask for a billy-cock hat or a bowler; if he wishes a pad of paper, 
he should request a block of paper. If he goes to a restaurant, he indi- 
cates whether he desires his meat underdone, not rare; if he wishes 
corned beef, he calls for silversides of beef; if beets, he calls for beet- 
root ; if chicken, he calls for fowl ; if a cereal of any sort, he calls for 
corn ; if cold bread, he must order cut bread ; and if he desires pudding, 
pie, jam, preserves or candy, he must order sweets, short for sweet- 
meats. If the waiter should fail for any reason to give him a napkin, 
an American should ask for a serviette; and when he has finished his 
repast, he is handed a bill which he may pay with his cheque, or, if he 
prefers, with the cash from his purse, not his pocket-book. 

If in England you find no bowl and pitcher in your room, you are 


expected to call for a jug and basin, since there a pitcher means only 
a little jug and a bowl is used exclusively for serving food in. On the 
street, instead of a letter box near a lamp post, you see a pillar box 
near a lamp pillar, and you perhaps meet a person pushing a peram- 
bulator, called ' pram ' for short, instead of a baby-carriage. For dry- 
goods you go to a mercer's, where you will find white calico sold for 
muslin. For cloth you go to a draper's, for wooden ware to a turnery, 
for hardware to an ironmonger's, for milk, butter and eggs to a cow- 
keeper's or a dairy, and for fish, game and poultry to a fish shop. If 
you desire any of your purchases sent to your address, you order them 
sent by express-carrier, carriage paid. 

If at any time you desire the services of a scrub-woman to clean 
your apartments, you send for a charwoman. If you wish to have some 
furniture upholstered, you request the upholder to undertake the work 
for you. If you need the services of a doctor, you call in a medical 
man. You must be careful to address surgeons and dentists by the 
common democratic title 'mister,' since the English custom does not 
warrant you to address them as ' doctor.' If you are well, to your 
inquiring friends you are reported ' fit,' if unwell, ' seedy,' if sick, 
invariably ' ill.' 

To an American ear British orthoepy offers quite as noteworthy 
surprises as the idiomatic diction does. Of course it is to be presumed 
that there should be more or less marked variations in the matter of 
habitual utterance of certain sounds, especially the long o- and the long 
a-vowel, as in ' fast,' ' dance,' ' sha'n't,' etc., which are at striking vari- 
ance with American usage. Indeed, these sounds are so characteristic 
that, like the English custom of ending almost every sentence with a 
question, when clearly natural and not an affectation, they serve as a 
shibboleth of British nativity. But notable eccentricities are to be 
observed in the English mode of pronouncing many proper names such 
as Derby, pronounced ' darby ' ; Berkeley, pronounced ' barclay ' ; Mag- 
dalen, pronounced ' maudlin ' ; Cadogan, pronounced ' kerduggan ' ; 
Marylebone, pronounced ' merrybone ' ; Cholmondeley, pronounced 
' chumly ' ; Marlborough, pronounced ' mobrer ' ; Albany, pronounced 
so that the first syllable rhymes with Al- in Alfred, etc.. It is unneces- 
sary to multiply examples. Suffice it to say that there is a large class 
of these words the spelling and pronunciation of which seem to an 
American rather curiously divorced. Certainly American usage offers 
no parallel where there is so complete a divorce of orthoepy from or- 
thography. American usage makes for phonetic spelling and tends 
to make the conventional pronunciation and spelling conform some- 
what, at least. 

Having drawn attention to a few Briticisms, we are now prepared 
to discuss some of our Americanisms which seem to excite in the pure 


minds of the English precisians alternate feelings of disgust and indig- 
nation. Let it be premised, however, that it is not proposed to include 
ordinary slang in the present discussion. It must be admitted that 
too much slang is employed even in polite circles, not to mention the 
speech of those who make no pretense to refinement and culture. But 
one should not confuse vulgarisms with so-called Americanisms, just 
as one should not confuse vulgarisms with legitimate slang. The dis- 
criminating student distinguishes between ordinary slang and legiti- 
mate slang. The vulgar slang of the street is, of course, to be univer- 
sally condemned and tabooed. Legitimate slang, on the contrary, 
performs an important function in the development of a living lan- 
guage. It is not to be inconsiderately ostracized, therefore, and put 
under the ban as the chief source of corruption of our vernacular, as 
certain of our purists, in their zeal without knowledge, tell us and at- 
tempt to maintain. It is idle for them in their self-appointed role of 
guardian of the pristine purity of the English tongue to endeavor to 
defend so unsound and so indefensible a thesis. For legitimate slang, 
far from being an unmitigated evil and a constant menace to the purity 
and propriety of our noble tongue, is standard English in the making, 
is idiom in the nascent state before it has attained to the dignity of 
correctness of usage. To change the figure, legitimate slang is the 
recruiting ground whence come the new and untried words which are 
to take the place in the vernacular, of the archaic and obsolete words, 
dropping out of the ranks. But it is aside from the main purpose of 
this paper to discuss the relation of slang to standard usage (cf. ' What 
is slang?' Popular Science Monthly, February, 1906), and hence 
this only in passing. 

By an Americanism, as here used, is meant a word, phrase or idiom 
of the English tongue, in good standing, which has originated in 
America or is in use only on this side of the Atlantic. It will be seen, 
therefore, that all mere slang expressions, even though they be of 
American origin, are barred from the present consideration. In his 
dictionary of ' Americanisms/ Bartlett gives a large collection, many 
of which the above limitation, of course, excludes. 

Of reputed Americanisms, as one might surmise, there are several 
classes to be distinguished, without any very clearly defined line of 
demarcation separating them. One class includes a large number of 
phrases which had their origin in England and were transported thence 
to our shores by the first settlers who came from the mother country 
and established themselves in Virginia and Massachusetts. In the 
last analysis these locutions appear to be transplanted British provin- 
cialisms, not a few of which came over in the Mayflower. Some of our 
British critics who are not as familiar with the history of the English 
language as they might be do not hesitate to deliver an offhand opin- 


ion, pronouncing an apparent neologism an Americanism, when as a 
matter of fact the expression shows a good English pedigree extending 
back many generations. A more intimate acquaintance with the his- 
tory of our common speech would save them the embarrassment from 
such a glaring blunder. But it is so easy to fall into the careless 
habit of branding as an Americanism an unfamiliar idiom or a phrase 
that is rarely heard in England. This convenient term has thus be- 
come in England a reproach, inasmuch as a certain stigma, somehow, 
attaches to it in the British mind. But for all that, like charity, it 
covers a multitude of sins, sins of keen prejudice, no less than of crass 

Many of the so-called Americanisms are really survivals of Eliza- 
bethan English and boast a Shakespearean pedigree, although they are 
no longer heard in the country of that consummate master of our 
speech. Somehow, they seem to have drifted out of the main current 
of British English. Perhaps they have been caught up by an eddy 
and carried into one. of the provinces where they are still preserved, as 
they are in America, fresh and vigorous. A moment's reflection will 
show that we Americans come rightly by our Elizabethan English. For 
surely New England, Maryland and Virginia were settled by those who 
spoke the tongue of Shakespeare, even though they did not all hold the 
faith and morals of Milton. Many of these settlers — both Puritan 
and Cavalier — were college-bred men, graduates of Oxford and Cam- 
bridge. Therefore they inherited the best traditions of the English 
speech and transmitted it uncorrupted to their children. Nor were 
their children wilful traducers and corruptors of the King's English, 
but contrariwise they conserved it and safeguarded its purity quite as 
sedulously as the inhabitants of the mother country. Thus the English 
speech was handed down, undeflled, from one generation to another, 
in America. Hence some words and phrases of good Elizabethan usage 
have been preserved in America, which long ago became obsolete and 
dropped out of the living speech in England, where the growth of the 
language was, of course, not arrested by the rude shock incident to its 
being transplanted in a foreign country. 

Let us now point out a few examples of reputed Americanisms, 
social pariahs which have lost caste and no longer move in polite circles 
in England. An interesting example is found in the word ' fall ' used 
in the sense of autumn. Both these terms are in favor in America, 
although the pedants, following the lead of British critics, proscribe 
the use of ' fall.' We are told it is not employed in standard English, 
and hence must be censured as provincial. Yet ' fall,' which enjoys a 
certain poetic association with the fall of the leaf, can offer in its sup- 
port the high authority of Dryden, who employed it in his translation 
of Juvenal's satires: 


What crowds of patients the town doctor kills, 
Or how last fall he raised the weekly bills. 

In his ( Northern Farmer/ Tennyson used the offending word, but of 
course under the cloak of a provincialism. Still Freeman did not 
deign to employ it. Commenting on it, he remarks : " If fall as a 
season of the year has gone out of use in Britain, it has gone out very 
lately. At least I remember perfectly well the phrase of ' spring and 
fall ' in my childhood." 

Another good illustration of a word still surviving in American 
usage, but long ago discarded in England, is ' sick ' in the sense of ill. 
British usage restricts the meaning to nausea, employing ill to describe 
a man suffering with a disease of whatever sort. Yet ' sick ' is sup- 
ported by the very best literary authority. The term occurs again and 
again in Elizabethan literature. Eeference to Bartlett's concordance 
will convince even the most skeptical that the word abounds in Shake- 
speare, and that, too, in passages where the correct interpretation leaves 
no doubt that ' ill ' is meant. Suffice it to cite only an example or two : 
In 'Midsummer Night's Dream' (act 1, scene 1), Shakespeare makes 
Helena say, 'Sickness is catching'; again in ' Cymbeline ' (act 5, 
scene 4), we read, ' Yet am I better than one that's sick of the gout '; 
and in ' Eomeo and Juliet ' (act 5, scene 2), we read, ' Here in this city 
visiting the sick.' Not only so. ' Sick/ in the American acceptation, 
has an unbroken line of the best literary authority from Chaucer, ' that 
well of English undefiled/ down to Doctor Johnson, whose dictionary 
defines the word in reference to a person afflicted with disease. Amer- 
ican usage, furthermore, is supported by the King James version, in 
which ' ill ' is nowhere found, and also by the Anglican Church ritual. 
It is needless to multiply citations. If Americans sin in the improper 
use of ' sick/ it may be urged in extenuation that they can at least 
plead a long array of illustrious and unimpeachable authority and are 
in good company. 

The use of ' well ' as an interjection is mentioned by Bartlett in his 
dictionary as one of ' the most marked peculiarities of American speech.' 
Moreover, he adds, ' Englishmen have told me that they could always 
detect an American by the use of this word.' If this is an infallible 
hall-mark of American speech, then American English is nearer the 
tongue of Shakespeare than British English of the present day. For 
the word ' well ' in the sense of an interjection occurs again and again 
in Shakespeare. In ' Hamlet' (act 1, scene 1), Bernardo asks, ' Have 
you had a quiet guard ? ' Francisco replies, ' Not a mouse stirring.' 
Whereupon Bernardo adds, ' Well, good-night.' Again, in ' Midsum- 
mer Night's Dream ' (act 3, scene 1) : 

Bottom. And then indeed let him name his name, and tell them plainly 
he is Snug the joiner. 

Quince. Well, it shall be so. 


In Beaumont and Fletcher's 'Captain' (act 3, scene 3), we find an 
excellent example in the line, ' Well, I shall live to see your husbands 
beat you.' No one, of course, would think of charging Tennyson with 
using unidiomatic English. Yet, in ' Locksley Hall,' you read : 

'Well— 't is well that I should bluster.' 
Surely it is superfluous to cite further examples from English authors 
showing that American usage in the case of ' well ' as an interjection 
is perfectly good English, even if the locution is censured by British 
pedantry and never heard on British lips. 

The trite and hard-worked 'guess,' as characteristic of American 
speech as the much-abused ' fancy ' is of British speech, furnishes an- 
other conspicuous example of a reputable word in Elizabethan English 
which has become obsolete in England, but is still preserved on this 
side of the Atlantic. There is no doubt that our constant employment 
of this good old Saxon word to do service on every occasion and to 
express every shade of thought from mild conjecture to positive asser- 
tion is somewhat inelegant; and this circumstance has perhaps con- 
tributed to bring the overtaxed phrase into disrepute with our kin 
across the sea. Yet there is abundant warrant in Elizabethan usage 
for the familiar notation we give ' guess ' in our every-day speech, 
although it is generally confined to its strict meaning of conjecture in 
that period of the language. We find it used in the familiar sense of 
1 think ' in several passages in Shakespeare, notably in ' I. Henry VI.' 
(act 2, scene 1) : 

Not altogether; better far, I guess, 

That we do make our entrance several ways. 

Likewise, in 'Measure for Measure' (act 4, scene 4) : 

Angela. And why meet him at the gates and redeliver our authorities 
there ? 

Escahis. I guess not. 

So, again, in the 'Winter's Tale' (act 4, scene 3) : 

Camillo. Which, I do guess, you do not purpose to him. 
But this meaning of ' guess ' is common throughout the entire his- 
tory of English literature, for the word has always borne the sense of 
think, cheek by jowl with its specific meaning of conjecture. It is so 
employed by Chaucer and Gower in early times and in the last century 
by Sheridan and Wordsworth, certainly good literary authority enough. 
However, this meaning of the term appears to have died out in the 
present-day British speech, and the word is there employed strictly in 
the sense of conjecture, its lost sense being supplied by ' fancy.' Now, 
as between the Briton's ' fancy ' and the American's ' guess,' there may 
not be much choice. But certainly the employment of ' guess ' which 
our British cousins claim to be a shibboleth of American nationality 


does not indicate any misuse of our mother tongue, as they contend. 
Only one more case shall be adduced in illustration, to wit, our 
word ' baggage/ which the other half of the Anglo-Saxon race has dis- 
carded for ' luggage.' Here again, as elsewhere in the exercise of our 
prerogative, we have demonstrated our independence of the mother 
country in the matter of our speech and have chosen one term while 
the English people have adopted another, to designate the same thing. 
Both words have a good literary pedigree extending several centuries 
back. Shakespearean usage seems about equally divided, perhaps, with 
the odds in favor of ' baggage.' The Shakespearean coinage ' bag and 
baggage and scrip and scrippage,' which falls from the lips of Touch- 
stone in ' As You Like It,' and which enjoys the familiarity of a house- 
hold word, ought to have given ' baggage ' a wider currency, especially 
in the author's own country. But language, like the heathen Chinee, 
has ways that are dark, if not tricks that are vain, and does not develop 
according to logic or our a priori conceptions. Between the Briticism 
' luggage ' and the Americanism ' baggage ' it appears, therefore, to be 
a drawn battle. So the British have nothing to reproach us with on 
this score, since convention has adopted ' baggage ' on one side of the 
Atlantic and ' luggage ' on the other. 

So much for this interesting class of Americanisms which repose 
on standard Elizabethan usage, but are social outcasts in the land of 
their birth. There is another class of Americanisms which are not 
bolstered up by a long literary pedigree, inasmuch as they originated 
on American soil and were not imported from the old world. As com- 
pared with the class just considered, these latter are mere parvenus, 
without any illustrious ancestral history to commend them. This class 
of Americanisms is composed of phrases which have found their way 
into our speech from various foreign sources. They have been intro- 
duced into our tongue from our contact with diverse peoples from re- 
mote parts of the globe. They constitute a small residuum of terms 
and phrases, the presence of which in our vocabulary attests the fact 
of our relations with different nations of the earth. For instance, in 
the early history of our country, we had to do with the Indians, and 
so borrowed from them certain terms especially pertaining to natural 
objects. "We also had relations with the French, and consequently 
borrowed from them sundry phrases employed in official parlance, such 
as ' bureau of information,' for which British usage prefers 'office'; 
' exposition ' for the British ' exhibition,' and the like. Let these few 
examples represent the class. It is apparent here that we have made a 
slight departure from British usage. But it does not follow that our 
speech, for this reason, is less pure or less idiomatic. Both American 
usage and British usage show that the respective nations have decided 
to employ Eomance importations in official language, but they have 


adopted different terms for the same object. This proves, in the first 
place, the independence of the two great English-speaking nations even 
in the matter of language, and, in the second place, the wide-reaching 
influence of French as the recognized official and diplomatic language 
during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. 

In addition to these two distinct classes of Americanisms there is 
a third class composed of phrases and expressions which have not yet 
attained to the dignity of universal currency throughout the entire 
country. These are rather provincialisms which are peculiar to cer- 
tain localities. This class, therefore, does not command the importance 
which the first two classes already considered do. In a heterogeneous 
population like ours, made up of people from every nationality under 
heaven, it is quite natural that in certain localities there should exist 
some eccentricities of speech, some departures from the received stand- 
ard — in a word, some provincialisms. It need hardly be recalled that 
parts of our vast country were settled by other nations than the Eng- 
lish, as, for instance, New York by the Dutch and Louisiana by the 
French, to mention two specific cases bearing on the point in question. 
The people of these respective states, when they were incorporated into 
the union, of course, did not immediately forsake their native modes 
of speech and inherited vocabulary for pure, unadulterated Saxon. 
"When the vast southwest territory was made a part of the United 
States, the people in that quarter of the land spoke a lingo which had 
a decided foreign complexion. What more natural, then, than that in 
the speech of that portion of our land there should exist traces of this 
old foreign element ? Assuredly it would have been the height of arti- 
ficiality and an unprecedented proceeding for the French element of 
New Orleans, when they became citizens of the United States, to have 
renounced their native French names for such natural objects as 
' bayou/ ' levee ' and the like, in order to adopt pure Saxon terms. 
Likewise, it was not to be expected that the Spanish settlers in the 
western section of our country, specifically California, should abandon 
such native terms as ' canon ' and ' ranch ' and so on, for the corre- 
sponding names of genuine English origin. Thus it happens that 
there is a pronounced foreign flavor, or at least a slight tang, in the 
eccentricities of speech heard in certain localities of the United States. 
But these are mere provincialisms and do not impair the quality of our 
standard speech, which is English to the very core. 

However, it was inevitable that the English language in America 
should have received an influx of foreign words on American soil. But 
our speech possesses a marvelous capacity for assimilating non-Saxon 
elements from whatever source. Hence the various foreign elements, 
such as Indian, Dutch, French and Spanish, to mention only the chief 
importations, have all been absorbed without any appreciable altera- 


tion in the constitution of our English speech, and only traces here 
and there are seen of non-Saxon elements surviving in a word or an 
idiom as an enduring monument to the influence of other tongues 
upon our own on American soil. Some of these foreign loans, it is 
true, are confined to certain localities, and consequently are to be 
viewed in the light of solecisms, or at best provincialisms. They cir- 
culate freely in a limited area, but are not recognized as legal tender 
throughout the length and breadth of the country. Such expressions 
are confined chiefly to the western portion of the United States and 
very rarely find their way east. It is questionable whether they are 
entitled to be termed Americanisms except in the most liberal interpre- 
tation of that phrase, because they are not everywhere current and are 
not readily intelligible, not ' understanded of the people.' 

It seems appropriate at this juncture to say a word concerning dia- 
lects in America. The assertion is sometimes made that there are no 
dialects in America, that the railroad and printing press, the two 
potent and indispensable agencies in our modern civilization, have 
leveled out all eccentricities and peculiarities of speech and reduced 
our language to a uniform standard throughout our entire country. 
This statement is, in the main, true. Yet it requires only a little 
reflection to see that the assertion is not absolutely accurate and in 
accord with the facts. Certainly a brief residence in the several prin- 
cipal sections of the United States would bring convincing refutation. 
There is the western dialect, as implied in the comments in the preced- 
ing paragraph. There is also the Yankee dialect of New England, 
the salient features of which Lowell described very fully in his famous 
' Biglow Papers.' There is no less truly the southern dialect with 
its definite peculiarities of idiom and utterance. These dialects are 
quite sharply defined by their respective characteristics of colloquial 
speech. Each dialect has its own phrases and locutions familiar enough 
within its own geographical divisions, but not readily understood, 
perhaps unknown, elsewhere. For instance, the native southerner 
' reckons ' and ' don't guess,' whereas the Yankee to the manner born 
does not ' reckon,' but ' guesses ' a tort et a trovers. As for the western 
dialect, it is said that three elements enter into its constitution, 
viz., the mining, the gambling and the cowboy element, a rich vein of 
billingsgate running through each. An effort has been made by our 
writers of fiction to register and record the salient features of these 
respective dialects incidentally in their stories, but the shades and 
gradations of speech are not easy to reflect and preserve on the printed 
page with the corresponding local color. Hence the work has been 
but partially done, and nowhere with complete success. 

We Americans are far less trammeled by dialectal inconveniences 
and perplexities, however, than are the English people. For in Great 


Britain there is much less uniformity of speech than with us, and the 
difference between the language of a Scotchman and that of a Devon- 
shire man is almost infinitely greater than the difference between any 
two American dialects. But the dissimilarity of the British dialects 
is historic and dates back from time immemorial. The story of 
Caxton, the first English printer, is well known, how the good 
merchant from a southern shire, when he inquired for eggs of a good- 
wife in a northern shire, could not make himself understood, his south- 
ern dialect being mistaken for French. To be sure, the dialectal 
differences are not so great to-day as they were in those remote times, 
largely as the result of the printing-press Caxton set up in Westminster. 
But even yet the differences between the dialects of the extreme parts 
of the British Isles is so pronounced as to be a barrier to complete 
interchange of thought. 

It appears from the foregoing that the indictment of corrupting the 
English language which certain British critics have brought in against 
the American people is not a true bill, since no count has been estab- 
lished. Our British critics seem loath to acknowledge any American 
rights in our common language. Americans have as much right to 
enrich the English vocabulary with useful words as the English people 
themselves. We also have as just a claim as they to revive and pre- 
serve an obsolescent phrase or idiom. Because a given English word 
is no longer in use and esteem in England, but is recognized as standard 
usage in the United States, it does not follow that it is not good Eng- 
lish. The number of those using the English language in America 
far exceeds the population of England, and the English speech is just 
as vigorous and virile in America as it is in the parent country. In- 
deed, it has given indubitable proof of its vitality and vigor on Ameri- 
can lips by adapting itself to the infinite variety of new conditions in 
this new country and by the added flexibility, strength and richness 
as exhibited in its augmented vocabulary. English now is the lan- 
guage of the American people as Avell as of the English people. It 
is, therefore, no longer proper or scientific to speak of the queen's or 
of the king's English. Such a phrase is really an anachronism in the 
twentieth century, when the English-speaking subjects of King Edward 
are numerically inferior to those not owning allegiance to Britain's 
sovereign, who speak the same tongue. Moreover, it is manifestly 
not in keeping with the eternal fitness of things, as well as unscientific, 
for our British kith and kin to stigmatize an idiom or a phrase in good 
American usage as a provincialism simply because it is not current in 
Great Britain. The Britons have no more right to attempt to pre- 
scribe and limit the growth of the English tongue than we have. Nor 
do they enjoy an exclusive prerogative of determining whether a given 
expression, be it a new coinage or a survival from a former period, 


shall live and flourish or decline and perish in the English tongue. No 
sovereign, no nation can determine this, either by decree or by statute. 
The most that the British can say in derogation of an alleged Ameri- 
canism is that it is current only in America and is not authorized by 
British usage. But this does not make it un-English, if it bears the 
American sign manual. 

It is perfectly absurd for the British critics to condemn American- 
isms offhand and to attempt to read them out of the language, simply 
because they are not in accord with British usage. In so doing they 
give proof of their insularity and fail to exhibit a spirit of liberality 
and sweet reasonableness. Indeed, they seem disposed, at all events, to 
take themselves too seriously as guardians of the English language. 
It is well enough for a critic to throw his influence on the side of the 
preservation of the purity and propriety of speech. But it is sheer 
folly to allow one's pedantry to go to such a length as Malherbe, that 
' tyrant of words and syllables,' who on his death-bed angrily rebuked 
his nurse for the solecisms of her language, exclaiming in extenuation 
of his act, ' Sir, I will defend to my very last gasp the purity of the 
French language.' It is related of him that he was so fatal a precisian 
in the choice of words that he spent three years in composing an ode 
on the death of a friend's wife, and when at last the ode was completed,, 
his friend had married again, and the purist had only his labor for his. 
pains. jSTow your true British pedant seems to think it his bounden 
duty to reject summarily every word or expression which does not. 
bear the pure English hall-mark, and that as for Americanisms they are 
an abomination which must inevitably work the speedy corruption and 
ultimate decadence of the noble English tongue. Such an one, whether 
from his precisianism or his prejudice, fails utterly to recognize in 
Americanisms conclusive evidence of the inherent potency, vigor and 
vitality of the English language on American lips. 

VOL. lxix. — 22. 





A LONG and somewhat intimate acquaintance with boys and teach- 
-*~y- ers of boys, many of whom are my close personal friends, has 
given me opportunity to formulate certain conclusions which may help 
others. I have always been fond of the society of boys, being endowed 
with youthful tastes and aptitudes, and find it profitable to study boy- 
hood hopes, pleasures and ambitions. I have also taught boys and 
traveled with them in various capacities, and have a grown son whose 
friends I have tried, and with some success, to make my own. My per- 
sonal work has brought me in intimate contact with many phases of the 
human mind other than normal and particularly with problems of 
psychologic imperfections. This attention to abnormalities of the mind 
and character has not had the effect of making me over-suspicious of 
finding defects of the mental processes, because it is obvious to the 
student that few brains are free from obliquities and regrettable limi- 
tations. The tendency is for me rather to view with tolerance inevi- 
table vagaries which surprise and shock those who assume that the 
>mind of most folk is sound and dependable. Teachers and parents 
are overready to become amazed at sudden variations and deviations 
'dn the thoughts and actions of those entrusted to their keeping. Kinder- 
garteners seem to assume as a fundamental principle that any child 
subjected to what they define as suitable conditions of environment and 
education can develop into a perfect being. Lawyers divide people into 
two sharp-cut classes; those who are altogether sane and responsible, 
in season and out of season, and those who are insane, fit only to be held 
in check by restraint. Clergymen are over-tolerant of peculiar action 
and speech, often to a degree that they are not so helpful as they should 
be in enforcing authority where capability for responsibility is ques- 
tionable. They frequently urge the objection that a stigma falls upon 
those who are at any period admitted to be in need of special training 
or restraint. Among medical men there is too little knowledge and 
much unwarranted fear of mental problems. They know something, but 
not enough, as a rule, and occasionally err on the side of condemnation. 
Physicians and teachers should clearly appreciate that the mind of 
man in his earlier years varies widely in degrees and qualities of devel- 
opment, even more than in differences of bodily growth. Again, vary- 
ing conditions of home influence, early schooling or accidental train- 


ing may, and does often, bring forward rapidly one part of the mind 
while another remains distinctly infantile. Conditions of bodily health, 
not always obvious or even readily estimable, produce profound changes 
in cerebral energizing, so that one day certain beliefs, capacities and 
limitations may exist and to-morrow the balance of power be far other- 
wise. Under certain conditions, not readily determinable by common 
criteria, we may note and encourage in some the most bubbling spon- 
taneity, and in others similar circumstances may check all this, inducing 
introspection, discontent with self or surroundings, even a brooding 
melancholy. Tastes and inclinations differ enormously, especially in 
boys; also standards of excellence. Conceptions of objects worthy of 
pursuit in sport, or study, or plans for life, are often widely at 
variance, not only in different individuals, but in the same boys at 
different times and under dissimilar conditions. 

Many boys are possessed of greater fixity of purpose than others. 
This is usually assumed to be an altogether desirable quality. ISTot 
always so, because one boy may possess a nature large with possi- 
bilities and varied capacities, some of which are bad, revision being 
most desirable. It would be a deplorable unfairness to compel such 
a one to become molded into a definite form before time and cir- 
cumstances have permitted a symmetric shaping of the best several 
parts of a complex organism. It may be that such a boy will require 
many years of opportunity and training to furnish scope to vast 
inherent powers for good. Put him into a narrow line, and only 
warping and possibly embitterment and deterioration follow. How- 
ever, fixity of purpose is to be welcomed in the main, because direction 
can be given to strong impulses ; but it is a hard task to steer a drifting 

The subject is so wide and capable of being treated under such a 
variety of headings that my purpose here is only to offer from my 
experience remarks upon two of the chief influences which either make 
for corrective development, or emphasize the original bent and impair 
usefulness and citizenship. The one is home training and early environ- 
ment, the other is the school and the teacher. 

A long experience in the specialty of diseases of children has brought 
me in contact with many children in their homes. A large and impor- 
tant book could, indeed should^ be written on the subject of parenthood. 
In a paper I wrote some years ago (' The Nervous Mother,' Univ. Med. 
Mag., N. Y., 1895) I said: 

We all love to contemplate our eidos, or highest concept of the mother, 
the unspeakable beauty of which has alternately lured and baffled thinkers 
and poets throughout recorded history. Nothing is too good or can be claimed 
as too lovely in description or praise for the ideal type of maternity. It is 
then with regret we must admit that the average mother is often disappointing. 
It has been permitted me to meet many superbly beautiful mothers. Yet this 


crowning embellishment and glory of womanhood comes too often as a sur- 
prise, nor is it always welcomed, and only rarely does it bring unalloyed joy. 

There are obviously some faults here which must be local or due to 
remediable conditions. It is our duty to search out the defects and 
correct them. This in my judgment is chiefly in negligences in teach- 
ing mothers their duties. When it is realized that the most valuable 
influential impressions upon the infantile organism (whereby standards 
are acquired, moral impulses initiated), are made during the first year 
of life, it is plain that no omission of maternal care can be otherwise 
than hurtful. However much the mother may lack of perfect fitness 
for her sphere, however blameworthy in her attitude toward her trust, 
still she is a trustee for whom there can be no substitute comparable to 
herself. The child who has failed to enjoy the tender all-enfolding 
care and love of a mother, acting up to her best endeavors, is bereft of 
the greatest gift obtainable. She may leave in her personality, in her 
conduct, much to be desired. She may be a mass of minor faults, not 
wise or strong of mind, yet if she be sincerely desirous of fulfilling her 
instinctive obligations, no other being can replace her. 

The difficult boy stands clearly differentiated in my mind from the 
backward-minded or irresponsible boy, although there are grounds on 
which they may become merged. The difficult boy, as I conceive him, 
is one endowed with normal impulses, usually overstrong, which, be- 
cause of defects of early guidance, have become diffusive, unsymmet- 
rical, lacking inhibition, one who is commingled of more bad than good, 
yet often capable of great things under favorable conditions. There 
are those in whom the ingredients vary in other directions, among the 
w T orst of which are apathy, laziness, secretiveness, moral shortcomings. 
These, however, will soon or late become classifiable differently. 

The difficult boy may appear to be a liar, a bully, selfish, unwilling 
to exert himself in worthy directions, of even other and perhaps worse 
characteristics. All this may be due to pressure of circumstances 
obtunding a none too vigorous sense of right and wrong, distorting 
conceptions, inducing acts and speech which belie inherent normal in- 
stincts which are undeveloped or chronically impaired. In short the 
seeds of wholesome manhood are present, in fair measure, capable at 
times of splendid development, often to admirable citizenship, but not 
strong enough unaided to nullify the blanketing effects of circumstance. 
How are we to estimate what these counteracting forces are, or were, in 
the instance? How should we have conducted ourselves under the same 
baffling influences ? What would have been the effect of the same plainly 
indicated disheartenments, evil influences, examples on one nature as 
compared with another? If we examine our own personalities, we can 
see evidences of effects springing from apparently trivial causes out of 


all proportion to that which should have followed. A critical, candid 
self-survey will often astonish and alarm us at the close escapes we 
have made from impulsions which swayed us forcefully. What conse- 
quences have we escaped by sheer accident ? In short, how can we wisely 
make allowances for forces potent in others, the nature of which we may 
only dimly know and are practically unable to appreciate in all their 
temporary despotism? The question is how far will the normal impulses 
carry any one? We plume ourselves on our own individual solidarity, 
poise, achievements, our importance in the community; yet we have 
survived endless perils by means of some judgment and more luck. 

G. Stanley Hall, the master mind in childhood psychology, tells us 
in this connection that: 

Many of the morbid mental phenomena are merely those of overaccentua- 
tion of processes normal at puberty. The germs of many of these disturbances 
lie in the common faults of childhood, which are now studied under the name 
of pedagogic pathology. We must seek the key to these perversions by address- 
ing ourselves to the larger underlying and preliminary problems of determining 
the natural forms of psychic and somatic transitions from childhood to maturity, 
and study what puberty and adolescence really mean as developmental stages 
of human life. 

Adolescence begins with the new wave of vitality seen in growth; in the 
modifications of nearly every organ; new interests, instincts, and tendencies 
arise, increased appetites and curiosity, so that it is the physiologic second 
birth. Passions and desires spring into vigorous life, but with them normally 
comes, or should come, the evolution of higher powers of control and inhibition. 
The momentum of inheritance may be sufficient and Binschwanger conceived 
the psychic morbidities of this age as due to exhaustion or lack of capital. 

In the earliest education of all boys, whether in the family, the 
kindergarten or the school, one definite principle, it seems to me, 
should be held in mind as of paramount importance. This is motor 
training. The potentiality of this postulate is readily demonstrable, 
yet the history of education exhibits here a neglect, seeming to argue 
that if the principle were so vital it would have been enforced long 
ago. There is some modification in these later years. Froebel 
makes partial use of motor training in his beautiful idealizations, 
but it is subordinated to an optimistic expression of the good, the 
beautiful, the divine, needful but lacking in robust practicability. 
Man is put into the world to do something, to be something, and the 
obvious way to accomplish this is by primitive forms of labor. He 
may, and should, think, worship and aim for high ideals. In all this 
he should achieve concrete things. It is by no means proved that he 
can do this, except through the gradual process of fitting himself to 
become a practical part of the divine scheme. In this there is no place 
for drones. In due time he may devote himself, after earning the right, 
to physical quiescence, to thought, to contemplation. Man may, if he 
so elects, try to achieve a serene mental attitude (nirvana or kaaf ) until 


he shall become released from all bonds as the teachings of Brahma 
make possible. This is what the Froebelian conception leads to. 

Action is the key-note to habit and character. Good habits make for 
progress. Habits are definite actions resulting from sensations, motor 
modifications in nervous matter which have become stable through 
repetitions of actions. They are thus more easily performed. At first 
there is friction between sensory and motor nerve cells and this must 
be decreased by work. Memory is thus the same as habit; the nerve 
cells continuing to act in the way they have been induced to act before. 
We remember most easily things or acts which have been most often 
performed ; new paths are thus ploughed Qut in nervous matter. When 
actions have been repeated often enough there are then almost no new 
paths to be formed. Hence habits acquired become fundamental courses 
of action, they constitute organic memory, which may or may not be 
accompanied with consciousness. To form these there must be accu- 
rate repetitions of dynamic associations between nerve cells in early 
life, during the plastic period. After plasticity of these cells has passed 
away guiding habits can only be acquired imperfectly, and if at all 
at enormous expense of energy. Hence the imperative need to form 
correct early habits, which are bundles of memories or tendencies en- 
abling us to act again in the way we acted before. They become parts 
of our essential nature. A man does in middle life what he began to 
do in childhood — it may be good or bad — it is imperative. The boy 
unconsciously molds and trains his nervous mechanisms in such fashion 
that they will continue to act and react in the same way. At the start 
he is master, after a time habits master him. When these facts are 
more clearly appreciated there will be broader acceptance of the truth 
of the principle that dogmatic authoritative training in early life is 
best, provided always parents and teachers can be trusted to initiate 
action judiciously. Many a man is a failure in some direction, because 
he omitted to acquire the habit of courtesy, self-restraint, correct 
diction, punctuality, dexterity, accuracy in fundamental motions, even 
truth-telling. What evil may follow from the acquirement of vicious 
habits, however heroically resented, can readily be imagined. Habit is 
the process of associating a definite muscular action with a sense im- 
pression or with an idea. A child properly trained gives the right motor 
response with unerring accuracj^. Sensation must be associated so 
often with action that one shall flow automatically into the other. An 
image is a revised sensation leading to mental conceptions, impulses, 
etc. No image can be formed without causing a more or less intense 
motor outflow. Movements can be checked by the introduction of cause, 
and counter cause. Thus the will is invited to oppose a movement 
through the function of inhibition, whereby it is modified in accordance 
with judgment. 1 

1 See Reuben Post Halleck, ' The Education of the Central Nervous System.' 


The child of rapid growth usually fails of symmetric development 
in several directions. Disease processes, infections, accidents of nutri- 
tion, environment, emotional influences, etc., all tend to initiate and 
emphasize minor deformities. Overgrowth usually leads, for instance, 
to poor thoracic capacity. If the thorax is for any reason dispropor- 
tionately small and narrow a variety of special predispositions are 

If as physicians we fail to devote sufficient attention to morbid 
phenomena of the mind and morals, we perform less than half our 
duty. Disorders of the mind are dependent upon one of two factors: 
either defects of development in the brain, or diseased processes of the 
brain, or retroactively. The purpose and aim of diagnosis rest upon 
the concept that by the early recognition of manifestations of morbid 
physiology, we shall find means to check the changes which would 
otherwise pass on to destructive alterations. 

If this proposition obtains for the disorders of the physical func- 
tions, how much more must it fulfill a valuable service for those of the 
brain, which is a far more sensitive structure and especially liable to 
permanent damage from relatively slight irritations. It is a great 
privilege to mitigate bodily suffering, to limit the progress of structural 
degenerations, to prevent disablement and save life, but how vastly 
higher is the prerogative to turn aside those perils which jeopardize the 
budding intellect and rescue a tottering moral nature. Yet how little 
of this subject is the medical student taught, or again how much interest 
does the average practitioner display in this incomparably higher phase 
of his duties? 

It should be the aim of the clinical teacher to emphasize unceasingly 
the urgency of obtaining the earliest possible indications, omens or 
prefigurements of departure from normal f unctionation ; especially in 
children. When this is accomplished the greatest economy is effected; 
first in the limiting of suffering and the progress of disease, and second, 
in forefending the organism from developmental defects. All life is a 
process of development, but the effects of interferences are vastly more 
forceful and significant in the young. M. W. Barr points out a fact, 
especialty obvious in children of impaired mentality, which, however, 
obtains to a certain extent in all. There are at any one period, three 
ages which must be estimated: (1) the actual age in years, etc.; (2) 
the psychologic age, the degree of mental development or retardation; 
(3) the physiologic age, the status of conformation and function. 

Diagnosis of the morbid conditions of childhood involves something 
more than a mere search for evidences of disease. During the period 
of plasticity numerous influences prevail in all ranks of life to alter 
normal growth and organic development by which the foundations of 
constitutional weakness are often laid. These are in a great measure 


preventable, at least in part. It is the duty of the physician to recog- 
nize and promptly rectify the evil effects of environment and training, 
and in so far as possible of inheritance. Hence it is a most important 
department of differentiation to possess clearly defined standards of 
growth, proportion, activities, sensitiveness, functional competence, 
intelligence and capacity for endurance. These standards should be 
the product of wide observation, reading and experience, among normal 
as well as abnormal conditions, but unless tempered by judgment, right 
conclusions are not assured. 

The prototype for each teacher and physician is the ideal child, 
a composite picture of normal children, and can not be formed too care- 
fully by a thorough interpretation of all data at command. Next to 
the ideal child the teacher should erect for himself standards with 
permissible variants. In America we must not limit our attention to 
children of pure Anglo-Saxon stock, but hold in view the many other 
racial characteristics with which we are likely to come in contact. 
There are crosses of the Latin, Celt, Slav, German, Hebrew and other 
white races; also the hybrids of red, yellow and black races. These 
modifications exhibit laws of their own, as yet by no means clear, but 
deeply significant. Inheritance of tendencies is recognized as a poten- 
tial factor. Predisposition to physical and moral derangement is an 
obvious factor, admittedly forceful for harm. 

Difficulties of differentiation are many enough among children 
normal in structure, in neural balance and in mind, but these grow 
greater where constitutional variations or deviations are present. Hence 
it is desirable to weigh variants in type, such as peculiar and excep- 
tional children. The normal processes are profoundly modified by 
peculiarities of temperament due to inheritance or acquired. E. W. 
Bohannon in a statistical study of over 1,000 children {Pediatric Semi- 
nary, Oct., 1894) covers the ground sufficiently to warrant using his 
classification. The psychic factor demands deeper attention in peda- 
gogics than ordinarily obtains. 

Bohannon formulates certain types of mental and physical con- 
formation : 

These types are the .heavy, the tall, the stout, the small, the strong, the 
weak, the deft, the agile, the clumsy, the beautiful, the ugly, the deformed, those 
with birth marks, the keen and the mentally precocious, those with defects of 
sense organs or mind, the nervous, the clean, the dainty, the dirty, the dis- 
orderly, the teasing, the buoyant, buffoons, the cruel, the selfish, the generous, 
the sympathetic, those with imagination, the liar, the ill-tempered, the silent, 
the dignified, the frank, the loquacious, the inquisitive, the courageous, the 
timid, the whining, the spoiled, the gluttonous, and ' the only child in a family.' 

Many of these types cross; several are liable to include similar 
features, constituting composites of the types, making the study some- 
what complicated if carried to legitimate conclusions. 


A review of Bohannon's findings and conclusions from the observa- 
tion of this large group reveals much of practical interest. As to gen- 
eral health and mental ability there appears good reason for believing 
that the larger children, except the extremes, are superior to others. 
But it must not be forgotten that there are pathologic cases in this 
group, especially in those showing marked departures from the average. 
Those who suggest too early maturity are generally even-tempered. 

Small children evidence delayed development. The less vigorous 
show degenerative phenomena, many are delicate, ugly, deformed, or 
vicious, dull, mean or spiteful, and tend toward morbidity. The strong 
children, while exhibiting many admirable qualities, are likely to be 
aggressive, harsh, coarse, rough. More is expected of them, hence they 
are often early exhausted by compulsory work; their offenses are the 
result of excessive, often explosive, energy. The weakly children are 
likely to show pronounced evidence of degeneracy, often they are ugly 
and deformed, cruel and mentally deficient. Inheritance was not so 
frequently recognized a cause as parental follies, especially during the 
embryonal period. Temperamentally they are usually unfortunate. 

The deft and agile show better health, yet are undersized. Clumsi- 
ness is found due to two causes; first, want of development of the 
mechanisms which function the accessory movements; and second, ex- 
cessive inhibition of the same, along with lack of emotional balance. 
Ugliness is usually accompanied by many evidences of degeneration, 
physical and mental; in the deformed these deviations are even more 
decidedly present. Deformities are largely (ipso facto) manifestations 
of deviation, defects of central development exhibiting anatomic and 
physiologic faults, some of which are remediable. Under good care 
many of these improve greatly, some becoming distinguished adults. 
They are found to be treated by parents and associates with amazing 
lack of consideration, hence they suffer temperamentally. 

Among those showing defects in mind, sense organs and speech, 
there is much to indicate a general decline. They are morbidly retiring, 
dependent, and lacking in symmetrical development, due in part to 
original defects and deficiencies in normal stimulus. 

Those children grouped as ' nervous ' exhibit delicacy and insta- 
bility of constitution, are deficient in size and vigor, are timid, sensitive 
and changeful, disposed to be irritable and meddlesome, defective in 
control, hence untruthful. The extremely over dainty and the distinctly 
dirty, each excite suspicion of mental abnormalities. Buoyancy and 
teasing both indicate excess of energy; so also of cruelty, but here 
ancestral traits seem manifested. 

Lying and imaginativeness are allied, and point to lack of self- 
control or to selfish imitation; the associated traits are disobedience, 
ill-temper, thieving and bad health. Those who are peevish, untruthful, 


discontented, are usually of delicate make and evince instability and 
poor vitality. Those who are loquacious, voluble and inquisitive lack 
inhibition or control. 

Courageous children are usually healthy and strong in mind and 
body. Timidity has a physical basis, but may be acquired from bad 
environment, habitual discouragement. The ' only child in the family ' 
in 66 per cent, shows disadvantageous traits; they are usually of poor 
health, lacking much of normality, both mental and physical. The 
1 youngest child/ the ' only boy ' or the ' only girl ' often displays 
many striking resemblances to the ' only child.' - 

Classification of grades of mental deviation is only important 
for purposes of teaching. Types of mind there are, and they must be 
fully appreciated that individuals may secure the right kind of in- 
fluence and training. Degrees and qualities of mentality are even more 
important, because by this means we may know where to place the 
individual, how much control to insist upon, how much compulsion to 
exert on the parents. Types of all the adolescent insanities merge 
into each other. Those who have the charge of young children may 
have no need of psychiatric training, but they do need to employ a com- 
mon-sense recognition of abnormalities, deviations, obliquities, patent 
enough to the intelligent observer. Children of pronounced dominant 
impulses may exhibit at times self-will, naughtiness, ill temper, even 
exuberant imagination to the point of mendacity, buoyancy or apathy 
in changing moods, and yet become wholesome admirable citizens. 
Distinct and continued nervousness, fretfulness, timidity, brooding, 
causeless variations in moods, cruelty, vengefulness, should put us on 
our guard and warrant suspicion of deep-seated perturbations fore- 
shadowing psychoses. 

Educational methods are still defective in many particulars. Tra- 
dition holds us in a powerful grasp. In the public, and in most 
private schools, the course of study is analogous and aims to meet the 
supposed needs of the child of average intelligence. This would be 
well enough if certain fundamental truths were recognized by both 
school boards and parents. Custom has created a public opinion from 
which it is difficult to appeal. For instance, it is a fact that all chil- 
dren develop on some lines more rapidly than on others, in differing 
degrees of rapidity. In one there may be exhibited early motor apti- 
tudes with late intellectual capacities. In another the reverse, yet at 
a certain age they may be to all intents equal. One child may acquire 
language, grammar, and the elements of literature early, with a late 
grasp of numbers, arithmetic, the natural sciences. Another may 
reverse this, and yet at a given time these two may be on a par. It 
will be plain that to get the best results due allowances should be made 

2 See article by the author, Brit. Jour. Childrens' Diseases, January, 1905. 


for these variants. In some schools full cognizance is taken of these 
normal peculiarities. Economy, however, demands that all children 
of about a certain ' grade ' shall pursue a ' systematic course.' The 
product is not what it should be. 

The personal influence of the teacher is recognized increasingly. In 
some of our colleges a plan of subdividing the classes into small 
groups and placing them under tutors has been found of largest value. 
(At Princeton University a modified Oxford tutorial system was first 
initiated with excellent effect by Woodrow Wilson. This is now 
adopted by several other colleges.) 

Indeed valuable horses and dogs get more careful personal teaching 
than most children. Boys whom we characterize as ' difficult ' have 
become so largely by neglect or postponement of some important item 
of education. They have become warped, unsymmetric, psychically 
and physically. The prevention is right education, so also is the cure. 
The first thing is to correct faults of misdirected impulse, the next is 
to teach the elemental principles of self-restraint, disentangling errors, 
illuminating doubts, always encouraging and leading to wholesome cus- 
tomary lines of action and thought. Endless difficulties would be pre- 
vented, boundless good would be afforded, if from the earliest teachers 
to the highest university professors there should be pursued some uni- 
form plan of notes or records on individual aptitudes, tastes, tendencies, 
capacities. Some teachers are endowed with instinctive capabilities for 
meeting unusual problems. Some also, the majority, are astonished 
and distressed, even annoyed and resentful in the face of individual 
peculiarities, good or bad. !N"o one should judge too soon whether the 
peculiarity be altogether good or bad. 

Errant impulses are by no means understood. Geniuses have ex- 
hibited strange individualisms. They are rare (geniuses), it is true, 
but how many times do well-meant efforts to suppress spots on the 
leopard, or to paint out the stripes on the tiger, fail to make of a well- 
bred wild cub a respectable tabby cat. The power of a nation resides 
in men of individual dominant personality. 

We want our boys and young men to have ample opportunity to 
evolve their own individualism. University curricula are now made 
increasingly liberal. Why should not the primary schools adopt similar 
principles ? It is quite true a ' system ' is desirable for the average 
boy, but a sliding scale ought to be within the reach of any one who is 
recognizably unfit to pursue the customary methods. 

Our ' difficult boys ' may be divided roughly into those who are 
provided with overmuch impulse or too little, the robust exuberant doer, 
or the torpid dreamer. It is obvious that each needs motor education, 
partly similar and partly diverse. The chief defect of our school sys- 
tem is the lack of opportunity for motor education. In country dis- 


tricts where beys acquire of necessity more of handicraftsmanship they 
need manual training less. In cities it is essential. 

The boy of mental peculiarities will not settle down to efficient work 
till he finds his own place, his level, range of action, and by his own 
initiative. This discovery is always the outcome of a gradual evolu- 
tion ; it should not be forced. From this secure position, once attained, 
he can fare forth satisfactorily and finally achieve his adult sphere of 
usefulness. That boy is fortunate who is content with his own province 
when discovered and does not invade that of another. Many a boy fitted 
to make an admirable and happy ranchman, soldier, sailor or farmer 
becomes a misfit self-detesting clergyman, physician or lawyer. His 
early advisers are generally to blame in compelling him to masquerade 
as a scholar, who was formed to be an excellent capable every-day man. 
Intelligence, capacity, is not to be measured by degrees so much as by 
qualities, aptitudes, characteristics. A first-class foreman in a factory 
may possess a far more symmetric intelligence, a clearer judgment, than 
the lopsided genius who invented the objects which he manufactures. 

One of the surest criteria of capacity, at any level, is, according to 
M. W. Barr, the grasp, the quality of the grip of the hand. The grasp 
shows many things indicating the comprehensiveness of the mind. 
Certain minds can readily learn by doing, yet they grope feebly in pure 
intellectual effort. They reach an equally worthy goal if only they 
know their limits, stop at their own station, go to their own home. 
Over-stimulation in scholasticism is as hurtful as overtraining in track 
athletics; the staleness may pass into permanent mental impairment. 

Shyness, inertia, resentment of interference, timidity, gloom, in- 
dolence or stubbornness may indicate no essential defect, but may be 
due to awkwardness, defective coordination. The cure is kindly en- 
couragement, guidance in activities, development of unrecognized apti- 
tudes, praise, wholesome incentives. Many have little tactile sense; 
this should be encouraged in all ways; it may finally come in fair 
measure and form the ground for conspicuous abilities by cooperation 
of other faculties long overshadowed. Barr quotes Buffon ' how wonder- 
fully the senses are alike at bottom, how they supplement each other ! ' 

The limit of receptivity is often reached early. It is then wise to 
be content with careful training on a lower level in which excellent 
capacities can be attained. One man can become a thoroughly good 
soldier, to obey orders, to die at his post, to follow to the death, who 
never can lead a company, much less plan a campaign or sail a ship. 
The best captain is by no means necessarily a good oarsman or a gunner. 
Always it is essential to achieve even qualified success to begin special 
training as early as possible during the plastic stage. No good sailor 
can be made from an old farmer or an old professor of mathematics. 


The most promising agency in eliminating the difficulties which 
impair manhood in boys, future men, citizens, is the kindergarten, the 
principles of education outlined by Froebel. This aims at the highest 
idealization of life, largely through the play instinct. Whatever criti- 
cisms are made on the kindergarten teaching can only hold against 
methods of application. So far these objections have to do chiefly 
with its lack of adjustability to established educational methods, and 
Mill cease when the exponents of Froebel acquire greater breadth of 
knowledge, a clear appreciation of the practical needs of society. Our 
established methods of education leave much to be desired, but it will 
take time and thought to bring about a perfect system. Meanwhile it 
seems plain that the one means of both prevention and cure of difficult 
boys is to be found in a perfect home. 

The ideal home, where two parents live with and for their children, 
where mutual helpfulness is fully afforded, where the fundamental 
impressions are given and received, is the greatest agency in primary 
education. Unfortunately this ideal home is made difficult of attain- 
ment because of a multitude of factors, especially in large cities by 
altered, artificial, perverted methods of living. The instinctive nat- 
ural helpfulness, so necessary to arouse the sense of individual respon- 
sibility, finds little opportunity for growth. Unless the boy is encour- 
aged to bear his part of the burden, to contribute his share to the body 
domestic, as in the primitive home, he can not grow symmetrically, or 
become certain, exact, in his more robust impulses. Instincts of re- 
sponsibility find small encouragement. 

To be sure, we can not check the inevitable trend of modern indus- 
tries which aim by over-specialization to reduce the individual to the 
rating of an intelligent machine, whether in the lower or in the higher 
industries. If, however, we can succeed in fostering the spirit of the 
home, in implanting early, in the plastic childish brain cells, the ideali- 
ties, the desirabilities of home, much will then be accomplished. Ad- 
mitting that the conception of the home, once implanted, is forceful 
for so wide an influence, let us waste less time in other directions and 
concentrate our efforts on erecting and preserving the ideal of the home. 
This the teaching of Froebel is capable of accomplishing. The con- 
cept of divided responsibility is constantly presented. Pictures of 
domesticity, object lessons in practical helpfulness, are parts of the 
course of instruction. Children taught on this principle will carry 
through their lives clear ideals of home. When they become parents 
these instinctive promptings, these deeply suggestive pictures, early 
implanted, will act as unerring guides to parenthood. 

The first thing a troublesome boy must learn is unquestioning 
obedience. In this way he may become a perfect intelligent machine. 


Not, however, if he run wild and lawless till manhood, or not then 
without endless pain and punishment can he learn his life lesson. All 
good in human beings comes from seizing and utilizing the period of 
receptivity to all manner of impressions, the formation of habits of 
obedience, of accurate response to orders, to the facilities of craftsman- 
ship. This is highest at birth and diminishes in a parabolic curve. 

The boy physically strong, but intellectually weak, should not be 
judged by the same standards as the one physically weak but intelli- 
gently keen. Each will tire in his line of defects before the comple- 
mental capability has time to assert its potency. Neither should he 
hastily be judged inferior, because within his sphere he may be worthy 
of confidence and equally useful. Barr thinks that the stimulus of 
music is equal to that from books. The ever-present sensitiveness to 
disharmonies is developed by rhythmic sounds as well as by military 
drill. As energies are developed they can be specialized, directed into 
suitable channels, to varying applications, if not falsely forced, only 
wisely encouraged. 

The problem of educating the tumultuous, effervescent or exasper- 
ating boy is usually solved by the military school. The enforcement 
of implicit obedience, the sharing of responsibilities by boys acting as 
petty officers and many other features constitute satisfactory methods, 
in the main sufficient. They often lack something essential. Sol- 
dierly qualities in the teachers may be absent, they being not themselves 
adequately trained for their accidental role. Again the routine of an 
ordinary school, constructed on military lines, even those of govern- 
mental foundation, often fails, because the industrial feature is absent, 
the only relaxations being leisure, or the ordinary athletic games. 

Probably the best means of making clear the ideal methods, so far 
as we can adduce them, is to cite the course of training at a school 
where the best results are attained; where the boys, all difficult prob- 
lems, yet become developed into, not only useful citizens, with rarest 
exceptions, but some of them achieve high qualities although their 
early status was desperately bad. The one in my mind is the Glen Mills 
School, Pa., originally the House of Eefuge for Philadelphia. The 
boys are only admitted when committed by the law after perpetrating 
overt acts. Every one is of the most . difficult kind. The special fea- 
tures of the Glen Mills School are the paternal, intellectual, agricul- 
tural, industrial and military. Other schools there may be conceived 
on a similar system, but I am- safe in claiming that nowhere are these 
features in all branches so consistently and thoroughly carried to a 
legitimate issue. None achieve such uniformly satisfactory results. 
One item of equipment is superior, a magnificent gymnasium, the gift 
of Mr. Alfred Harrison. Here the boys enjoy every opportunity of a 
gymnasium, a drill hall, indoor games, basketball, preliminary baseball 


35 : 

and football, etc., and a splendid swimming tank; all under expert 
instruction. The one element of industrial training impresses me as 
the most important of all. The boys make all their shoes, clothes and 
many other essential articles for home consumption; all furniture 
needed or desired. They decorate in highly artistic fashion all walls 
for esthetic and sanitary reasons and add to buildings, as the two new 
wings of the schoolhouse built last year show. Agricultural instruction 
is not only the best form of physical training, but a constant source of 
object lessons, the wholesome means of correction and moral stimula- 
tion. The week's work is divided judiciously between these various 
industries, and always, daily, certain portions of scholastic instruction, 
military routine, drills, etc. The scholars live and sleep and eat in 
houses presided over by the teachers and their families, securing the 
paternal influences. 

In conclusion let me urge all those who are charged with the care 
of a difficult boy to be openminded at all times; to be prepared to 
modify the original concept, the earlier estimate; to read him in the 
lights revealed along the way. Above all things exercise toward him 
companionability ; encourage confidences, especially as to hopes, ambi- 
tions, views on life. Be quick to see the good, the forceful, qualities 
and help the spontaneous exercise of these. Above all never be betrayed 
into forcing on such a boy plans of action contrary to his bent, his 
tendencies. Let Mm evolve a course of action, help him to perfect it, 
be it large or small. The small may become elaborated, the large may 
need modification. When the course is chosen, emphasize, praise, en- 
courage spontaneity. Always leave the door open to a return to you 
for renewals of stimulus; encourage the appeal to you for judgment, 
for wisdom. 





CONSIDEBED genetically, intellectual and physical functionings 
oppose one another. The business of organisms is to act. And 
action means primarily a direct response to stimuli. It is only as the 
organism grows complex and there is opportunity for more than one 
reaction to a given stimulus that there comes about a retardation in- 
volving an inhibition of action. And this retardation is filled out with 
weak reflections of the nerve paths which are being stimulated, i. e., 
with thought. Thought, then, comes at the expense of the organism's 
natural functionings. Thought brings bodily inertia. Were there no 
thought, we should be mere reflex organisms. Health is conditioned 
by physical acts and the healthful rest of the organism is accompanied 
by sleep. 

Now all this means that we who think are in a sense artificial folk. 
We are transcending nature in a way — at least in comparison with 
the great mass of animal life which has a more or less reflex existence. 
Still we have our compensations. We are knowing beings, having two 
sides to our natures, a physical and an intellectual. We can react on 
a given presentation in two ways, either intuitively in accordance with 
our natural physical bias, or logically in accordance with our more 
artificially developed reason. 

It is no mere matter of hyper-intellectualism which leads us in our 
genesis from the first to the second of these modes of reaction, but a 
matter of increasing complexity of the organism making simple in- 
tuitive reaction more and more impossible. Therefore, as a general 
proposition, this development is nothing we can or wish to strive for or 
against. We simply have to accept it as it is. 

Yet, turning to the study of individual man, we find great diversity 
of mental bias and disposition. The happiest and healthiest of men 
is doubtless he who lives an active life out in the fresh air and amid 
pleasant natural surroundings. His physical bias is strongly devel- 
oped and affords a ready and never-failing intuitive force for good 
and health. His mental outlook is clear if not profound. He takes 
things as they are and, unless accident befall him to disturb his habitual 
methods of functioning, he is able to meet the various situations of life 
with positive equanimity. 


On the other hand, he who by reason of physical inefficiency or en- 
vironmental conditions spends his life in inhibiting physical action, 
finds a substitute for action in thought. 

The intellectual life has two main attitudes: active reasoning and 
esthetic contemplation. Though these two complement one another, 
we find them variously accented in different individuals. The scholar 
leads, in the main, an intellectual life, yet the esthetic complement 
to his nature may be very slightly developed. His reasoning processes 
have the aim of elucidating and, therefore, of bringing peace of mind 
with respect to some phase of life. But his pleasure is more largely 
in the business of thinking, in the solving of his concrete problem, than 
it is in the contemplation of a complete result such as' characterizes the 
esthetic attitude. The true artist has his esthetic ideal always before 
him. His function is to express this ideal as a complete and con- 
formable whole. Whether his work be of head or of hand, it is always 
informed by such an ideal and the artist's genius rests all in his ability 
to give adequate expression to this ideal. 

Each of us has these esthetic ideals in some degree, but only a few 
of us attempt to express them. We seek, rather, an expression for 
them in the work of another and, finding it, we obtain esthetic pleasure 
in the contemplation. But he whose ideas become crystallized to such 
an extent that he can objectify them and give them expression in a 
picture, a drama or a symphony, he has a peculiar talent which the 
rest of us, however esthetically appreciative we may be, do not possess. 

The genius must possess a certain technical skill to enable him to 
express himself objectively, and he must also be so imbued with the 
force of his ideas that he is, in a sense, impelled to give them such 
expression. This necessity of artistic expression is one of the factors 
of his esthetic nature. A demand is felt to realize a certain ideal, to 
give it a clear objective expression such as must always be lacking so 
long as it remains clothed only in the vague imagery of the mind. The 
hack author, painter or musician may make a mere business of his 
talent. In so far as he does this his work must be of low merit as art. 
It is forced rather than spontaneous. It caters to an audience instead 
of being a natural expression of his own ideas. 

There is something very intimate about true art. It always ex- 
presses the man behind it and, in the last analysis, its merit is a token 
of the character and mental bigness of the artist. Those who have 
no clear and definite ideas, but busy themselves with vague intentions, 
only reflect in their works the unrest of hyper-sensitive natures. We, 
their audience, may recognize and sympathize with their unhappy 
states and, indeed, derive a certain esthetic enjoyment from their ex- 
pression, but it remains for the man able to give a positive impetus to 

VOL. LXVIII. — 'i3. 


his work to be termed a genius; one possessing a certain sublimity of 
purpose and accent which brings his work into touch with the eternal. 

As to the artist's technique or means of expression, it must always 
take a place subordinate to the idea. The idea is always the motive 
power, the dominant force. So soon as the artist's interest lapses into 
an active pleasure in his work as such, he loses sight of his aim. And 
this shows quite conclusively that no amount of skill and special train- 
ing in expression ever makes an artist and, indeed, explains the artistic 
puerility of so much work produced by men of splendid technical 
equipment. The pernicious influence of the ' academic ' training is 
due to just this, that the artist is led to see the value of his work in 
such beautiful lines and relationships of form and color as all can 
imitate, rather than in an individual idea clamoring for artistic ex- 
pression. Thus it is that much of our greatest work is expressed in 
crude, unfinished form, at times by men who apparently knew not how 
to express themselves completely or, at least, would not; for example, 
Rodin, Michelangelo, Manet, Whitman and Eichard Strauss. Yet 
the force and dominance of their esthetic ideas justify and lend a 
value to their work higher than that of any faultless academician faith- 
ful to his classic traditions. 

The true genius never learns his art. It is intuitive with him. 
There is but one way of expressing a great thought adequately and 
that is naturally, therefore intuitively. So soon as the artist begins 
to reason as to how he shall express himself, he loses sight of that which 
he has to express. His process is no longer an esthetic one, but be- 
comes a practical one. Except to introduce a person into the realm 
of art, to teach him some of its manifold possibilities, art training is 
a thing of doubtful value. In so far as it attempts to substitute rules 
and methods for one's natural intuitive ways it is positively detrimental. 
The artist must be first and foremost an individual; without individ- 
uality he certainly can never be termed a genius. Still, if he can not 
be taught as one is taught a trade, he can be taught clearness of thought 
and perception, and this should be the true function of his training. 

When we interpret things too much in the light of our knowledge 
concerning their objective natures, we usually interpret them wrongly. 
It is only when we understand them subjectively as ' experience ' as well 
as objectively that we know how to represent them adequately. The 
best means of expression is the intuitive and natural, but a true psycho- 
logical knowledge may aid one's expression when too much experience 
and reasoning has interfered with one's natural intuitive bias. 

We find, then, that our true artist is a person of esthetic ideas plus 
an ability to express them adequately. Now, what are the consequences 
of this mode of mentality on the life of the man ? 


We have noted the artificiality of intellectualism as compared with 
naturalism. There is something even more absorbingly intellectual 
in the artistic mode of life than in the scholarly, for in the latter one 
is occupied with a -process more or less limited in scope, whereas the 
artist is always striving to represent a complete ideal. The effect of 
this on the artist's active life depends largely on his natural propensities. 
Esthetic contemplation has evolved genetically out of sensationalism, 
and it is doubtless the sensual factor in his nature which leads to 
most, if not all, his pathological tendencies. 

Moral and utilitarian ideas can scarce be other than healthy when 
viewed either from an esthetic or a practical view-point. Sensualism, 
however, is decadence. The effort of the individual to give free ex- 
pression to his senses is always met with failure. Having risen above 
our mere sense natures into the realm of intellect, it is now impossible 
to revert to them. The clear, happy, unaffected, hedonistic lives of the 
Greeks are no more possible in these days of modern artifice. There- 
fore, he who turns to the senses for a true expression of his nature 
finds his effort clogged with all manner of false and related concepts 
which his experience with society has thrust upon him. There is no 
way to live ' naturally ' in our day. 

What, then, is the fate of him who attempts it ? Taking all things 
in life to be natural expressions and being interested more in the states 
of body and mind than in any particular results to body or mind, this 
person is led to seek peculiar complexes of sensation, peculiar situa- 
tions, bizarre effects, all which it may be a pretty esthetic problem to 
justify and sublimate. But the taste thus cultivated always craves 
something new and the attitude ceases soon to be one of esthetic intent 
and becomes instead one of low sensual desire. Contemplation is sup- 
planted by desire, which now becomes the dominant note. Habits of 
passion develop and grow until both body and mind are ravaged by 
their deleterious effects. This is the real significance of decadence and 
it demonstrates, too, how works of art produced under such influences 
must fail in their universal import. 

There is no denying that the genius in art is peculiarly exposed to 
these affections. The very inertia of his type of mind produces a 
species of hyperesthesia which, unless properly subordinated by a strong 
and forceful physical and mental nature, often leads to his downfall. 
We have so many instances where drugs, alcohol and other harmful 
habits have destroyed both body and mind of a bright genius, the 
factor is certainly one which can not be overlooked. Yet a positive 
element in his character may suffice to save him from this fate. So 
long as the individual asserts himself sufficiently to justify all his acts 
in the light of all his knowledge, bringing everything into connection 


with everything else without losing himself in a mesh of particulars, 
there is not much danger of degeneracy. Even an occasional lapse 
may find adequate place and absolution in such a character. 

But so soon as such lapses from the physical and social order be- 
come dominant notes in one's life, either as things which one con- 
stantly deplores, or as things which one vaunts and praises, then the 
individual is shocked and begins to lose his positive force in society. 

The genius may be as healthy and normal as another man; yet 
many indeed there are who have produced true works of genius only 
to succumb afterwards before their ruling passions. As a mode of 
life that of the artist is hardly to be commended. It is an artifice, an 
excrescence. It leads to too much objectifying and too little practise. 
Few individuals can stand this. 

On the other hand, the true artist in an ideal sense is at the same 
time the true man. For he should be strong both of body and of 
mind, with a wide experience and a deep insight, with an understand- 
ing so broad that nothing is foreign to him, yet in whom nothing 
dominates so as to protrude beyond its proper setting. Such a man is,, 
indeed, inspired with intuitive insight, but he is rare, even impossible. 
Yet there have been those who possessed this attitude in all its com- 
pleteness for a time, and while under its influence they have produced 
undying works. These are the men to whom we commonly attribute 
genius. The usual critical mistake in dealing with such personages 
is either to attempt to make their complete lives perfectly consistent 
with these higher moments, or else by pointing out their weaknesses 
to decry even their greatest works. Needless to say there is neither 
sense nor use in either method. 

The strength of the genius is only the strength of the ordinary 
man slightly intensified; the weakness of the genius is just the weak- 
ness of the ordinary man, but more conspicuous by contrast. Psycho- 
logically it is not at all incomprehensible to conceive a man of alternate 
high and low moments, alternate strength and weakness. It would be 
well-nigh inconceivable that a man should be always the one or the other. 

If consistency of character is less marked in the genius than in the 
ordinary man, it is this which constitutes his uniqueness among men 
and may even at times determine his genius. The genius is more than 
apt to be a poor citizen, yet we can tolerate him for his work and 
because his kind is exceptional and few in number. If we would 
understand his nature and his art we must study his life in detail, 
unbiased and with broad understanding, for we are dealing with one who 
runs the gamut of emotions in order that he may sublimate them all. 






THE ideal side of life came into Greek consciousness on the eastern 
shore of the blue Mediterranean, under the shadow of Mt. Ida, 
in sunny Ionia with its fertile plains and luxuriant verdure and its 
rich and brilliant cities. 

The poets were its forerunners, Homer, Alkaeus, Sappho and Anak- 
reon. First there were the wandering poets, and then a school of 
poetry arose in the many tinted isle of Mitylene with Sappho at its 
head at the end of the seventh century, a school which was compared 
in antiquity to the circle of Sokrates. Schools of philosophy followed 
in Miletos, that hot-house of intellect, and later on in Ephesos, where 
Sappho and Herakleitos were born. We do not know whether these 
schools were organized Thiasai, dedicated to the goddesses like the 
school of Pythagoras in southern Italy and the Greek schools of philos- 
ophy of a later age, but it may well have been so, for in Ionia as in 
Greece there was a ' shrine at every turn of the mountain path, and a 
religious ceremony for every act of daily life.' 

On the southern shore of the Gulf of Smyrna, opposite the river 
Hermus, with Mitylene in the distance across the sea, was the city of 
Klazomenai, the modern Voorla. There Anaxagoras was born, who 
was the first among the Greeks to evolve the idea of spirit as a philo- 
sophical principle. Yet like all great ideas, this one, perhaps the 
greatest, was vague and uncertain in its first appearance. Anaxagoras 
belonged to the school of Anaximenes of Miletos. Miletos lay only a 
few miles south of Klazomenai on the shore of another picturesque 
gulf of the eastern Mediterranean, and from the time of Thales it had 
been a center of philosophic thought. Theophrastos states that Anaxa- 
goras was an ' associate of the philosophy of Anaximenes,' but these 
two great thinkers were not contemporary, as Anaximenes died in 
520 B.C., two decades before the birth of Anaxagoras. The connection 
between them lay especially in a love of scientific research, and in 
similar methods of explanation of astronomical and cosmological facts. 
Anaxagoras lived in Ionia until he was about forty years of age, and 
he attained great fame in his own country during the last ten years of 
his residence there, gaining a reputation for depth of thought and 
integrity of life, and slowly evolving his theory of the universe. 

The Ionian philosophers were monists and materialists. They 
sought a fundamental substance, water, air or fire, or some other form 


of matter, as the reality of life. In the language of the early Greeks 
we find the words soul and spirit synonymous with breath, and while 
the Greeks had the practical idea of the soul as the active power in 
being, they conceived of it as a thinner, finer form of matter. For 
example, Anaximenes speaks of air as being the breath of life. These 
old Ionian thinkers were not materialists, however, in quite the modern 
sense, which explains spirit as a function of matter, but they held 
rather the childlike idea that spirit is a purer, higher form of matter, 
for matter with them was the eternal existing something. It was not 
created, neither did the gods of Grecian mythology give it its form, 
for the gods had very little to do with the inner life of the Ionian 
thinkers in their efforts to find a natural cause for all phenomena. 

Anaxagoras did not have very much difficulty in formulating a 
cosmic theory which suited him, that is, in making ' cosmos out of 
chaos/ His method of working was reasonably scientific, but the re- 
sults of his theory in regard to the origin of things around him were 
ludicrously childish and impossible, and were not of especial service 
to Greek thought except as they led up to his one great idea. We will 
give in a few words the substance of his world theory. Herakleitos, 
the philosopher of the flux, had founded his cosmos upon constant 
change, or becoming. Anaxagoras repudiated the idea of change; 
absolute change was impossible. " The Hellenes," he said, " are 
wrong in using the expressions ' coming into being ' and ' perishing/ 
for nothing comes into being or perishes, but there is mixture and 
separation of things that are." Chemical change he had never thought 
about; therefore, things must always have been what they are now. 
All objects, organic or inorganic, in which respect he made no distinc- 
tion, as bone, flesh or gold, for example, had existed from eternity in 
the same form in small particles. The apparently simple substances, 
like air, fire, earth and water, are really the most complex, because they 
contain the greatest number of these particles. In the beginning this 
infinite number of small particles was in the form of chaos. In chaos 
a wonderfully rapid whirling motion started, and like particles joined 
with like until objects as we know them, including all forms of animal 
life, came into existence. Aristophanes, in his ' clouds,' ridicules 
Anaxagoras's idea of the whirl with pungent wit, for he represents one 
of his characters as saying that Zeus is no longer the leading god, but 
' whirl ' has taken his place. 

Anaxagoras, however, was not as illogical in regard to the origin 
of motion as he had been regarding the construction of matter. He 
knew that motion could not start of itself. The origin of motion was 
the problem which his contemporaries were solving in different ways, 
according to their trend of thought, Empedokles with his love and 
hate, or primitive form of chemical affinity, and Leukippos with atoms 
in a vacuum, the heaviest falling faster and uniting. Neither of these 


theories, however, seemed satisfactory to Anaxagoras. How then could 
he start the whirl in chaos ? Long years of meditation were doubtless 
necessary before he evolved his great idea, which revealed a dim under- 
standing of the power of reason in the origin of being. To start a 
whirl he must have an outside something, and if reason is the strongest 
element of human power, why should there not be some form of reason 
which is independent of matter and able to originate the whirl in chaos, 
and then to retire from the scene of action and return to the separate 
and lonely existence of its unknown past ? Thus was born the idea of 
the Nous. The Nous is half spirit and half matter, as yet a vague 
force, the beginning of a conception of the thinking element in the 
universe. There is only one fragment preserved from the sayings of 
Anaxagoras which would imply a kind of personality in the Nous, in 
which he speaks of its having knowledge of the past, present and 
future. In general, however, we find that Anaxagoras's understanding 
of the Nous was rather that of a kind of matter, a thinking essence, 
the lightest of all things, a semi-material force. 

When Anaxagoras was forty years old, having partially at least 
formulated his world theory, he went to Athens, the first philosopher 
to live there. Athens was then in the dawn of its brightest day. 
Perikles was coming into power, and his mind was seething with all 
the possibilities which the development of the Athenian democracy 
provided, and he was ripe for the strongest idealistic teaching of his 
age. Anaxagoras's migration to Athens has sometimes been attributed 
to Aspasia, who, herself from Miletos, would be desirous of bringing 
to Athens as much as possible of the brilliancy and culture of Ionia. 
There are chronological difficulties, however, against this supposition, 
as Aspasia must have been too young at that time to have gained influ- 
ence over Athenian society; in fact, it may be quite possible, on the 
contrary, that Anaxagoras was himself the cause of Aspasia's going to 
Athens. Perikles, in his desire for the best for his beautiful Athens, 
very probably himself invited Anaxagoras from Ionia to Greece. 

Anaxagoras's influence over Perikles was strong, and from the con- 
genial counsels of these two great men was brought forth a wonderful 
atmosphere of love of freedom and reign of reason in Athens. We can 
picture Athens as she was in the beginning of Perikles's power from 
the excavations of Dr. Dorpfeld, president of the German School of 
Archeology in Athens, begun in 1891, on the northwest side of the 
Akropolis — a primitive town with small, insignificant houses and nar- 
row streets — and it was during the three decades of Anaxagoras's life 
in Athens that the marvelous changes there were produced by Perikles. 
Eager pursuit of knowledge and art arose. Astronomy was influencing 
the reckoning of time. A new Athens was building with straight, broad 
streets and graceful columns. Music and gymnastics were being made 
prominent, and on the Akropolis was beginning to blossom the highest 


expression of beauty ever made by the human race. In the latter part 
of this period books, also, were in common use, although not as 
yet very numerous. Peisistratos had founded a library for those who 
applied themselves to letters, which had passed through various vicissi- 
tudes, and the Athenians had increased it with a great deal of care. 
To the stock of books in existence at that time Anaxagoras made an 
important addition. His book did not have an original title, being 
called 7rspt (fjae/x^, or ' On Nature,' like many other productions of 
Ionian philosophers, but his ideas were original, and it was the first 
book to be illustrated by diagrams, with the exception of geometrical 
writings. In Plato's time the book was on sale for a drachma, although 
it is said to have consisted of several volumes. Probably the volumes 
may have been rather what we should call chapters. This book, alas, 
is no longer in existence, although we possess important fragments of 
it, mostly found in Simplicius's commentary on Aristotle's physics, 
which was written in the sixth century, at which time a copy of the 
book was to be had. 

Let us now consider some strange phenomena in connection with 
the first appearance of the idea of spirit in Greek philosophy. Anax- 
agoras himself had the characteristics of the idealist, but his world 
theory and the general trend of his studies were closely allied with the 
teachings of his materialistic predecessors in Ionia. He could not 
wholly escape from his age. When Sokrates heard of Anaxagoras's 
book he was delighted that some one had attributed the universe to an 
all-pervading spirit, and immediately sent for the book; but he was 
;greatly disappointed on reading it, as he did not find there the idealism 
for which he had sought. Anaxagoras belonged not to the age of 
^Sokrates, although he was partly contemporary with him, but he be- 
longed wholly to the Ionian school of mathematical astronomy. The 
thought of Anaxagoras was scientific rather than philosophic, and his 
book was devoted to scientific, mathematical explanations of cosmog- 
raphy and astronomy. The Nous was not to him the all-important 
part, but only a necessary cause for the beginning of motion — a sec- 
ondary first cause, so to speak. Yet the idea of the Nous was sufficient 
to introduce rationalism into Greece, for it was the first presentation 
of an existing rational force wholly distinct from matter. Anaxagoras 
was bent upon scientific discovery, and the important things in his 
mind were his method and his original theory of matter. How often 
it happens that what seems secondary to a great man proves after all 
his most far-reaching service to the world. As, for example, with 
Plato his philosophy was secondary in his own mind to his ideas of 
political reform, and, while it is true that the latter have been much 
regarded, yet the former have revolutionized all philosophic thought. 
Anaxagoras's rationalism did not enable him to produce a rational 
theory of matter, yet it rationalized all his thought and was a stepping- 


stone between the earlier study of nature and the later study of man. 
Indeed, his rationalism affected Greece through his followers, who 
were Perikles, Euripides and Thukydides. It is probable, also, that 
Themistokles studied with him at some period, perhaps when Anax- 
agoras was still in Asia Minor during the time of Themistokles's 

The introduction of the Nous into Greek thought changed the basis 
upon which rested the accepted opinions of the multitude. We see this 
first of all in the necessary metamorphosis of religious beliefs which 
began in the age of Perikles. 

The first strong point of influence on the part of Anaxagoras in 
revolutionizing thought was in his astronomy, which was sufficiently 
developed to enable him to give a comparatively correct explanation 
of eclipses and other astronomical phenomena. It was a part of the 
creed of the age that the heavenly bodies were gods, and even in the 
time of Plato it was considered a crime not to believe in the godhead 
of the sun and moon. Anaxagoras asserted that the sun was not 
Helios, the god, but a mass of ignited stone as large as, or larger than, 
the Peloponnesus. He even tried to explain how it became ignited. 
He attempted to reduce all meteorological and elemental phenomena 
to law, and although some of the laws were wrong, yet the idea of law 
as a force in nature controlling phenomena was a rationalizing power 
that we can hardly compute, for according to the belief of the multi- 
tude, the gods interfered to produce these phenomena. Anaxagoras 
has left no writings, to our knowledge, directly on religion. The ISTous 
even does not seem to have been a god, but rather a force ; yet by intro- 
ducing laws to control the outward phenomena of the universe, by one 
fell stroke he destroyed the deepest-seated religious ideas of those 
around him. The lightning blast that Zeus produced from Mt. 
Olympus by shaking his aegis, was accounted for sacrilegiously by 
Anaxagoras. The rain, the storm and the seasons the people regarded 
as the work of Zeus; and Anaxagoras in explaining them according to 
natural laws seemed to threaten the foundation of their religion. The 
world had been the plaything of the gods. It was now the work of a 
rational principle. Anaxagoras separated the gods from the procession 
of natural phenomena; but that he did not wish to destroy the rever- 
ence with which they were regarded is shown by the spirit in which the 
restoration and the enlargement of the Akropolis was undertaken, while 
his influence was still strong over Perikles. 

Science, too, was changed by Anaxagoras, not only because he did 
much toward reducing to order and formulating the astronomical and 
cosmological theories of the time, but because he made law the basis 
of scientific research, and sought to find the uniformity of law in the 
phenomena of nature. He received a strong incentive to rational study 
of science in his young manhood when he had the opportunity of visit- 


ing a large meteoric stone which fell near the Aegospotamos Kiver, on 
the northern shore of the Hellespont. Who can tell what his thoughts 
were then, as he perceived with his own eyes the material character of 
this messenger from the heavenly bodies, the so-called gods ? 

The influence of the idea of the Nous on the political life of Athens 
can not be estimated. Perikles was a political idealist, bent on making 
the most of the intellectual ability of every iVthenian citizen, and the 
close intimacy with a man like Anaxagoras probably accounts for much 
of the fineness of his work and his freedom from the superstitions of 
his age. The ruins of the Akropolis of Athens at the present time show 
us something of what his idealism did for art. Anaxagoras taught that 
the Nous exists in all things in a greater or less degree, and the art of 
his age, the highest that the world has known, expresses to a degree 
never before attained the psychical basis of beauty. 

Anaxagoras's service to philosophy was, however, the greatest, al- 
though it has not been fully appreciated. For the first time the psy- 
chical element entered into philosophic research. The Nous had to be 
reckoned with, as well as matter so-called, and since then we have had 
different grades of world theories, some of which attribute to the psy- 
chical the whole of reality, like that of Plato, some the part, as with 
Aristotle, and some none at all, as with the materialists. With Anax- 
agoras was born the idea of spirit, yet in the vague and glimmering way 
in which all ideas come into existence, and the gratitude of the world 
for this idea has been given to Sokrates and Plato, who presented it in 
its fulness. Anaxagoras, therefore, does not rank as great among 
philosophers in popular opinion, because he was so soon overshadowed 
by those who completed his conception of the spiritual. 

When Perikles's power began to wane and he could no longer protect 
his friend and teacher, the vengeance of the multitude whose gods had 
been attacked fell upon Anaxagoras. He was cast into prison, and 
saved with difficulty by his pupil, and exiled to Lampsacus, on the 
southern shore of the Hellespont. There he organized a school of 
philosophy, and the Anaxagoreans are referred to occasionally by later 
Greek philosophers, but the school was soon overshadowed by the results 
of the age immediately succeeding. When Anaxagoras was ill and 
likely to die, his friends in Lampsacus asked him what they could do 
in his memory, and he replied that he would be pleased to have the 
anniversary of his death kept as a holiday, and this custom was long 
observed. The people of Lampsacus also honored Anaxagoras after 
his death by erecting an altar to him, bearing on one side the word 
' Nous ' and on the other the word ' Truth.' 

The greatest tribute, however, to Anaxagoras was paid in the time 
of imperial Eome, a tribute of which he was' not unworthy. An im- 
perial Eoman coin was issued at Klazomenai, on the reverse of which 
was the philosopher Anaxagoras with the globe in his hand. 





IV iT R. BURBANK has so far not formulated any new or additional 
-*-'-*- laws of species-change, nor do his observations and results 
justify any such formulation, and we may rest in the belief that he 
has no new fundamental laws to reveal. He has indeed the right to 
formulate, if he cares to, some valuable and significant special con- 
clusions touching certain already recognized evolution factors, in par- 
ticular, the influence on variability of the two long-known variation- 
producing factors of hybridization and modification of environment. 
His reliance on the marked increase in variability to be got after 
a crossing in the second and third generations over that obvious 
in the first will come as a surprise to most men first getting acquainted 
with his work. He has got more starts for his new things from these 
generations than in any other way. He is wholly clear and convinced 
in his own mind as to the inheritance of acquired characters ; ' acquired 
characters are inherited or I know nothing of plant life/ he says ; and 
also convinced that the only unit in organic nature is the individual, 
not the species; that the so-called species are wholly mutable and de- 
pendent for their apparent fixity solely on the length of time through 
which their so-called phyletic characters have been ontogenetically 
repeated. He does not agree at all with de Vries that mutations in 
plants occur only at certain periodic times in the history of the species, 
but rather that, if they occur at all, they do so whenever the special 
stimulus derived from unusual nutrition or general environment can 
be brought to bear on them. He finds in his breeding work no prepo- 
tency of either sex as such in inheritance, though any character or 
group of characters may be prepotent in either sex. He believes that 
no sharp line can be drawn between the fluctuating or so-called Dar- 
winian variations and those less usual, large, discontinuous ones called 
sports. Ordinary fluctuating variation goes on under ordinary condi- 
tions of nutrition, but with extraordinary environmental conditions 
come about extraordinary variation results, namely, discontinuous, sport 
or mutational variation. These variations are the effects of past en- 
vironment also, having remained latent until opportunity for their 
development occurs. Starvation causes reversions, but reversions can 
also be produced by unusually rich nutrition. New variations are de- 
veloped most often, as far as environmental influences go, by rich soil 


and generally favorable conditions. So-called new qualities are usually, 
if not always (the fact may sometimes not be obvious), simply new 
combinations of old qualities, both latent and obvious. To get a new 
and pleasing odor it may often be sufficient simply to lose one bad ele- 
ment in an old odor. So one might go on for some pages with specific 
conclusions or deductions reached by Burbank on a basis of experience. 
But it is true that he has at his command the knowledge of no new 
fundamental scientific principles to give him advantage over us. And 
yet none of us has done what Burbank has been able to do, although 
many of us have tried. What then is it that Burbank brings to his 
work of modifying organisms swiftly and extremely and definitely that 
others do not? 

To answer this it will be advisable to analyze, in general terms, 
at least, the various processes which either singly, or in combinations of 
two or three, or all together, are used by Mr. Burbank in his work. 
We may roughly classify these processes and means. First, there is 
the importation from foreign countries, through many correspondents, 
of a host of various kinds of plants, some of economic value in their 
native land and some not, any of which grown under different condi- 
tions here may prove specially vigorous or prolific or hardy, or show 
other desirable changes or new qualities. Among these importations 
are often special kinds particularly sought for by Burbank to use 
in his multiple hybridizations; kinds closely related to our native or 
to already cultivated races which, despite many worthless character- 
istics, may possess one or more particular, valuable ones needed to 
be added to a race already useful to make it more useful. Such an 
addition makes a new race. 

Second, the production of variations, abundant and extreme, by 
various methods, as (a) the growing under new and, usually, more 
favorable environment (food supply, water, temperature, light, space, 
etc.) of various wild or cultivated forms, and (b) by hybridizations 
between forms closely related, less closely related and, finally, as dis- 
similar as may be (not producing sterility), this hybridizing being 
often immensely complicated by multiplying crosses, i. e., the offspring 
from one cross being immediately crossed with a third form, and the 
offspring of this with still another form, and so on. These hybridiza- 
tions are made sometimes with very little reference to the actual useful 
or non-useful characteristics of the crossed parents, with the primary 
intention of producing an unsettling or instability in the heredity, of 
causing, as Burbank sometimes says, ' perturbations ' in the plants, 
so as to get just as wide and as large variation as possible. Other 
crosses are made, of course, in the deliberate attempt to blend, 
to mix, to add together, two desirable characteristics, each possessed by 


only one of the crossed forms. Some crosses are made in the attempt 
to extinguish an undesirable characteristic. 

Third, there is always immediately following the unusual produc- 
tion of variations, the recognition of desirable modifications and the 
intelligent and effective selection of them, i. e., the saving of those 
plants to produce seed or cuttings which show the desirable variations 
and the discarding of all the others. In Burbank's gardens the few 
tenderly cared for little potted plants or carefully grafted seedlings 
represent the surviving fittest, and the great bonfires of scores of thou- 
sands of uprooted others, the unfit, in this close mimicry of Darwin and 
Spencer's struggle and survival in nature. 

It is precisely in this double process of the recognition and selection 
of desirable variations that Burbank's genius comes into particular 
play. Bight here he brings something to bear on his work that few 
other men have been able to do. It is the extraordinary keenness of 
perception, the delicacy of recognition of desirable variations in their 
(usually) small and to most men imperceptible beginnings. Is it 
a fragrance that is sought? To Burbank in a bed of hundreds of 
seedling walnuts scores of the odors of the plant kingdom are arising 
and mingling from the fresh green leaves, but each, mind you, from 
a certain single seedling or perhaps from a similar pair or trio. But 
to me or to you, until the master prover points out two or three of 
the more dominant single odors, the impression on the olfactories is 
simply (or confusedly) that of one soft elusive fragrance of fresh green 
leaves. Similarly Burbank is a master at seeing, and a master at 
feeling. And besides he has his own unique knowledge of correlations. 
Does this plum seedling with its score of leaves on its thin stem have 
those leaves infinitesimally plumper, smoother or stronger, or with 
more even margins and stronger petiole or what not else, than any 
other among a thousand similar childish trees? Then it is saved, for 
it will bear a larger, or a sweeter, or a firmer sort of plum, or more 
plums than the others. So to the bonfires with the others and to the 
company of the elect with this ' fittest ' one. Now this recognition, 
this knowledge of correlations in plant structure, born of the exercise 
of a genius for perceiving through thirty years of opportunity for 
testing and perfecting it, is perhaps the most important single thing 
which Burbank brings to his work that other men do not (at least 
in such unusual degree of reliability). Enormous industry, utter con- 
centration and single-mindedness, deftness in manipulation, fertility in 
practical resource, has Burbank — and so have numerous other breeders 
and experimenters. But in his perception of variability in its form- 
ing, his recognition of its possibilities of outcome, and in his scien- 
tific knowledge of correlations, a knowledge that is real, for it is one 
that is relied on and built on, and is at the very foundation of his 


success, Burbank has an advantage of true scientific character over his 
fellow workers, and in it he makes a genuine contribution to scientific 
knowledge of plant biology, albeit this knowledge is so far only proved 
to be attainable and to exist. It is not yet exposed in its details and 
may never be, however unselfish be the owner of it. For the going to 
oblivion of scientific data of an extent and value equivalent, I may 
estimate roughly, to those now issuing from any half dozen experi- 
mental laboratories of variation and heredity, is the crying regret of all 
evolution students acquainted with the situation. The recently as- 
sumed relations of Mr. Burbank to the Carnegie Institution are our 
present chief hope for at least a lessening of this loss. 

But let us follow our saved plum seedling. Have we now to wait 
the six or seven years before a plum tree comes into bearing to know 
by actual seeing and testing what new sort of plum we have? No; 
and here again is one of Burbank' s contributions (not wholly original 
to be sure, but original in the extent and perfection of its development) 
to the scientific aspects of plant-breeding. This saved seedling and 
other similar saved ones (for from the examination of 20,000 seedlings, 
say, Burbank will find a few tens or even scores in which he has faith 
of reward) will be taken from their plots and grafted on to the sturdy 
branches of some full-grown vigorous plum tree, so that in the next 
season or second next our seedling stem will bear its flowers and fruits. 
Here are years saved. Twenty, forty, sixty, different seedlings grafted 
on to one strong tree (in a particular instance Burbank had 600 plum 
grafts on a single tree!); and each seedling-stem certain to bear its 
own kind of leaf and flower and fruit. For we have long known that 
the scion is not materially influenced by the stock nor the stock by 
the scion; that is not modified radically, although grafting sometimes 
increases or otherwise modifies the vigor of growth and the extent of 
the root system of the stock. 

If now the fruit from our variant seedling is sufficiently desirable; 
if it produces earlier or later, sweeter or larger, firmer or more 
abundant, plums, we have a new race of plums, a ' new creation ' to go 
into that thin catalogue of results. For by simply subdividing the 
wood of the new branch, i. e., making new grafts from it, the new 
plum can be perpetuated and increased at will. Simple, is it not? 
No, it is anything but that in the reality of doing it; but in the 
scientific aspects of it, easily understandable. 

Perhaps it may not be amiss to call attention to what must be the 
familiar knowledge of most of us, and that is the fact that many (prob- 
ably most) cultivated plants must be reproduced by division, that is 
by cuttings, buds or grafts, and not by seeds, in order to grow ' true.' 
For a piece of a cultivated plant will grow out to be very much 
like the individual it was cut from, but the seeds will not, in most 


cases, reproduce faithfully the parents, but will produce a very variable 
lot of individuals, most of them strongly reversionary in character. 
Grow peach trees from the stones of your favorite peach and see what 
manner of peaches you get ; but if you want to be sure of more peaches 
like the ones you enjoy, graft scions from your tree on to other trees. 
Indeed one of the plant-breeder's favorite methods of making a start 
for new things, of getting the requisite beginning wealth and eccen- 
tricity of variation, is to grow seedlings, especially from cross-bred 
varieties. Burbank will give you a thousand dollars for a pinch of 
horse-radish seed. Sugar-cane seed is needed. The amelioration of 
many kinds of fruit and flowers and vegetables is checked, because in 
our carelessness we have allowed these kinds to get into that condition 
of seedlessness which almost all cultivated races tend toward when 
grown from cuttings. In our oranges and grape-fruit and in a score 
of other fruits, the elimination of seeds is exactly one of the modifica- 
tions we have bred and selected for, in order to make the fruits less 
troublesome in their eating. But when we lose the seeds entirely of 
a whole group of related plant kinds we may find ourselves, as we have 
found ourselves actually in many cases, at the end of our powers of 
amelioration of these plant sorts. Burbank believes that the very fact 
that plants when grown asexually always sooner or later lose their 
power to produce seeds is almost sufficient proof (if such proof is 
needed) that acquired characters are transmitted. 

Another of Burbank's open secrets of success is the great range of 
his experimentation — nothing is too bold for him to attempt, the 
chances of failure are never too great to frighten him. And another 
secret is the great extent, as regards material used, of each experiment. 
His beds of seedlings contain hundreds, often thousands, of individuals 
where other men are content with hundreds. Another element in his 
work is his prodigality of time. Experiments begun twenty years ago 
are actually still under way. 

In all that I have so far written, I have purposely kept to general 
statements applicable to Burbank's work as a whole. My readers might 
be more interested, perhaps, to have some illustrations of the applica- 
tion of various processes of making new sorts of things, some analytical 
account of the history of various specific ' new creations,' but con- 
siderations of space practically forbid this. Just a few briefly de- 
scribed examples must suffice. More than is generally imagined, per- 
haps, Burbank uses pure selection to get new things. From the famous 
golden orange colored California poppy (Escholtzia) he has produced 
a fixed new crimson form by selection alone. That is, noticing, some- 
where, sometime, an Escholtzia individual varying slightly redder, he 
promptly took possession of it, raised young poppies from its seeds, 


selected from among them those varying in a similar direction, raised 
new generations from them and so on until now he who wishes may 
have his California poppies of a strange glowing crimson for the price 
of a little package of seed, where formerly he was perforce content 
with the golden orange. For me the golden orange suffices, but that 
does not detract from my eager interest in the flower-painting methods 
of Mr. Burbank. Even more striking a result is his blue Shirley 
poppy, produced also solely by repeated selection from the crimson 
field poppy of Europe. " We have long had various shades of black 
and crimson and white poppies, but no shade of blue. Out of 200,000 
seedlings I found one showing a faintest trace of sky blue and planted 
the seed from it, and got next year one pretty blue one out of many 
thousand, and now I have one almost pure blue." 

But another brilliant new poppy was made in a different way. 
The pollen of Papaver pttosum, a butter-colored poppy, was put on the 
pistils of the Bride, a common pure white variety of Papaver somni- 
ferum (double), and in the progeny of this cross was got a fire-colored 
single form. The character of singleness was common to the ancestors 
of both parents, the character of fire color in the lineage of somniferum 
only, although the red of the new form is brighter than ever before 
known in the somnifera series. Both characteristics were absent (or 
rather latent) in both parents. And yet the perturbing influence of the 
hybridization brought to the fore again these ancestral characters. 
The foliage of this fire poppy is intermediate in type between that of 
the two parents. 

The history of the stoneless and seedless plum, now being slowly 
developed by Burbank, shows an interesting combination of selection, 
hybridization and reselecting. Mr. Burbank found a plum in a small 
wild plum species with only a part of a stone. He crossed this wild 
species with the French prune; in the first generation he got most 
individuals with whole stones, some with parts of a stone, and even 
some with no stone. Through th